Writing the eight:

||:}========{:||

Don’t like herbal tea

Too bitter and plant-y

It might grow but it won’t grow on me

I say ban it like some old king’s decree

It’s useless don’t you see

I hate the taste of ketchup

Defiled tomatoes. Stored in a glass cup

Like the blood of past deeds, poison comes up

And bites on my tongue, makes me gag and hiccup

I despise vegetables

They tear me up with mandibles

After uprooted they’re only good for candles

I scour spices

They always run out with high prices

And I never have enough thyme

||:}========{:||

One two three,

Three weeks gone,

Three weeks flew,

Time fucking flies,

The kind of flies you want to swat,

Want to kill,

Evading the grasp of your hand,

Flying through the air,

Feebly attempting to defy fate,

Deny the inevitable,

But as your hand flies so do the flies,

Thus creating the inevitable dance that is time,

Was your hand that of a clock?

Will you ever know?

Ever stop?

||:}========{:||

HEY GANG, its Eva, finally with access to the account lmao

🤓☝️