The Grim Reaper Is A Shitty Boyfriend

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Guerilla Gardening

This is a poem about planting tomatoes
In the glass-strewn bowels of an abandoned building
Where the roof is caved in and sunlight breaks through.

We clamber over the fence
With our seedlings and buckets of dirt
And clear away debris
And plant a garden

This small, defiant act
And the tomatoes will probably die
And the city will probably bulldoze this building
In a year or two
And there will be nothing left to show of you or I or anything that lived here.

But the two of us, laughing
And the sun warm on our bodies
Illuminating your copper hair, haloing your freckles
Your acne-scarred face soft and gilded in the light
And our dirt-stained fingers pressing into the earth
Our knees on the concrete and everything smelling
Of things that are growing and green.

A List Of Places Where I've Met God

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I should probably do something for an intro post other than old poetry so, hi! I'm Worm. I write stuff sometimes, lots of it featuring horror and faeries and death and trauma and prophets, sometimes other stuff too, not always terribly good but I always enjoy it.

I'm a young ex-farmer in college studying forensic biology and religion, although currently I am out of college on medical leave due to a heap of chronic illnesses and general problems.

I wouldn't really call myself part of the Great Tumblr Exodus of 2018 because I'm still on tumblr and intend to stay that way, but I'm testing the waters of this site just for kicks. I don't really know what I'm doing yet. Please be gentle with me.