Current Residence: Nix, Pluto, Sol system, Milky Way galaxy, universe B23-58, metaverse sector 7
Favourite genre of music: Classic Rock
Favourite cartoon character: Bugs Bunny
Personal Quote: Logic has no place here! And anger is a logical response!
PreludeHigh above the Earth, so high that the Earth's cities are only visible by the light they produce during the night, there sits a mountain made of steel and iron and aluminum. This mountain sits with the narrow end pointed towards the Earth, illuminated by reflected Earthlight. On what most would think of as the bottom, there is a city. A city surrounded by farmland, with spires of steel and glass, and one central tower that extends all the way above the city's protective dome. A dome clear as glass and stronger than steel, protecting the city and its inhabitants from the empty vacuum of space. Stretching down from the base of the dome was all variety of apparatus' designed for use in deep space. Massive hangars, mining equipment for smelting ore, weapon systems capable of rending ships in two, and more such devices were built into the hull of that vast ship, and the two space suited figures walking between the massive devices looked as small as ants.Prelude by ~aajjww121
"Why does this place have to be so d
Poetry challengePoetry challenge by ~aajjww121
I like pie!
The cake is a lie,
We're all gonna die!
I like pie.
She forces us to test!
We all try our best,
Spikes run through my chest.
She forces us to test.
If I had a million dollars, I'd be rich
But I don't, aint that a bitch?
I would buy something to cure my itch
If I had a million dollars, I'd be rich.
You want a second stanza and my soul
You'd have a better chance climbing a pole
Or perhaps, stealing my shoe sole
But if I were Santa, I would give you coal
If I was your boyfriend
Id never let you go
I could take you places that you aint ever been before
Baby take a chance or you'll never ever know
I got money in my hands
That I really gotta blow.
Snap yo fingas
Do ya step
Baby girl whats your name
Let me talk to ya let me buy you a drank.
John is poor
He smells like a wild boar
On his tasteless rhymes I shall shut the door
Leaving them a mess of gore.
Okay, there's your rhymes
After asking me a hundred times