Somewhere in Tokyo there is an ADORABLE four year old who has sang “Open shut them” 500000x times to her mother, and asked when is the next time she’s gonna see me.

Oh my god.

I have my very own private student. She is fucking ADORABLE.

I am going to be the best goddamned teacher to her ever. I AM GOING OUT IN THE HURRICANE TO BUY FLASHCARDS AND EVERYTHING.

My poor teacher has known me for like four years and tonights the first time she saw me swap into pre-school mode and she was looking at me like ‘where the fuck did you get all this energy from and how the hell are you smiling so much?’

Children, sensei, are my drug. I get baby high.


Poetry time! Puppets

I’ve begun opening up the can of worms that is going back to some of my oldest characters and bringing them back to life.

I’m still not sure if I want to continue down this path or not, but…

I have an idea. I have a cast. So I’ll try. Here’s something silly, and man, I am bad at poetry. Really, really bad. I think it’s a confession, some kind of ugly, “I love you, but it could never be, and I know this” ┬áthats a bit skewed. It’s a really rough idea spew of what I think I’m going to do with Return.

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Puppets WIP

Where we met, I forget.

But it was there I took your hand and tied a string around it.

And when I got upset, I pulled the string to forget all my pains and woes.

You would come to meet my hand.

Like a puppet on a string.

If the line would go slack, you would always come back, and life was good with you and I.

My puppet on a string.