Ailments become fragments of my imagination;
I am encumbered by nothing.
Hands in hand with a ghost of your former self,
someone I once held away from the torments of situation;
no longer am I strong enough,
another voice has taken over,
controlling, binding, leaving the person I am,
awaiting its next consensus.
A face that is not there taunts me,
breathing the same air that she held in her lungs, breaking,
for it all seems so familiar.
I have been lost and faded into this place,
waking only to find it still surrounds me,
blotting out the pain but with it, the comfort.
For I was a being existing but absent of life,
selective thoughts showing only bliss.
Sifting through tarnished images of a past you were a part of,
mind blanketed by memories- the ghost of your former self,
someone I once held and time stood still.
Time stood still, at least to us.
At least to us.
It’s actually a good thing that the zombie apocalypse starts in Florida because then the zombies only have one way to go and that’s straight up into trigger happy redneck territory. I give it two weeks before monster trucks and mullets save us.
can we talk about how this is still getting notes
The funny thing is that i can not actually come up with a counter argument for this.
THIS IS A PICTURE THAT SOMEONE TOOK WHO WORKS ON AN OIL RIG IN TEXAS.
HE WANTED TO GET A SHOT OF THE LIGHTNING THAT WAS FLASHING BY.
HE WAS UNAWARE OF THE TORNADO UNTIL THE LIGHTNING ILLUMINATED IT.
This has been called a one-in-a-million photo; taken south of Ft. Stockton, Texas.
INTO THE STORM