there's nothing to say, there's nothing to say
i have no idea how to write this
as much as i fight, they don't go away
the voices are really pissed, and so this
ode to the brown core of a toilet roll
is about to enter silent echo
stage right, i have stage fright and i also
don't like to say it, but i have no soul
i have no soul, lost in silent echo
i've no idea how to write this, no -
Thanks @penderis for the writing prompt
behold, the ode is over.
and so now behold,
the photos you were hoping for:
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
Hello from the high Rockies of Colorado. My name is Brandt, pleased to meet you. I live in a little ghost town called Leadville. If you like mountains, snow, jokes, odes, running, hiking, breathing, not working, &c., &c., then you and I have a lot in common. We should chat sometime. Yes, all photos are mine unless otherwise noted. Outstanding: my entire Steemit archive. Even more outstanding: funny postcards for sale. So incredible: my website. Jesus Christ, @brandt's signature is so fucking long and stupid, he should end it soon. The end. Thanks for stopping by, and have a lovely day.
I think you captured the essence of the empty core very well, infused that with the suffering of a cracked egg and got quite a good omelette. I also think that the place you live might be haunted and you really need to see a shaman or something. It just looks too damn rural, no wifi to scramble your brain, electrical lines, nothing? Yeah, you will be a bit screwed up given the low levels of pollution... Or you are just losing your mind :) In which case you need to explain to the voices the importance of journaling it for us online.
!tipuvote 0.5
Thanks. I am indeed losing my mind, and the place I live is indeed haunted. Lots of cranky old miner ghosts from Leadville's boom days. I actually wrote about one of them here.
Thanks for the writing prompt. I'll see what the voices have to say about my continued use of online journaling.
It looks like the same hand that squished the egg also flattened the toilet paper roll a bit. It's a sad business. That egg might have fit inside that roll and then it wouldn't have been an empty core anymore.
You live in a beautiful place.
It's a very beautiful place, but the egg isn't very happy here.
Powerful words. It speaks to the very nature of existence, how we are all but specks in the vastness of infinity. Nothingness shall be our main reward, and all that we have worked for will be for naught.
Yes, and also, my egg is cracked so I will have to go without breakfast.
I have been without an egg for years now. These days, the thought of an egg-centered breakfast only brings me a bright old chuckle.
What are you talking about?
Breakfast.
I'm on my lunch break.
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