My phone started going off like crazy, and as it turns out, it was because of a Joy Bomb! I love you, Joy!

You,
Me,
a lake,
and silence
except for the tiny crash
of small, breaking waves

I’m experiencing little to no patience. I wait. I wonder. I might have to sit on my hands. Nah… I’d like that too much.

No Forking Around

azukilynn:

Having arrived late to Mama Waffles’ writing prompt party, I’m finding myself titillated by the myriad expressions of Tumblr love in honor of this sweet, geometric food.

Could someone please pass me some whipped cream?

I will use my fingers (and tongue) as per usual. No fork required.

Azuki Lynn

Trending today: A lot of people want nothing more than to simply hold someone’s hand. 

I’m one of them.

Breakfast at work

ladydragonslair:

He was already ridged when
I opened the door to his cubicle, 
standing tall with crisp edges and solid lines.
My eyes widened at the sight 
as I watched the heat rise off him.
I knew he would be sweet and
warm in my mouth. 
I wanted to pour my syrup
over his salty light butter cream.
His golden brown glow lay hidden
beneath stark white and berry red
I wanted to undress him
and eat my fill of whipped cream
after savoring him on my tongue.

Waffle Haiku

buddharocks:

Poetic breakfast

Sing, “O waffle, my waffle”

Then seize the waffle

rattlehum:

For me it’s the way
The Butter and the Syrup
Blend in each Crater

wanton albinos found fornicating lascivious eels

purplemonkeysexgod69:

whet the wheel of my wanting
all will bleed for my blade and
for the children made orphans
feed them to the Christians for the
lions have had their fill of massacre and
eternal lives

Waffle Haiku

buddharocks:

Poetic breakfast

Sing, “O waffle, my waffle”

Then seize the waffle

chriswwriter:

Taco Cart Deliverance
A romance of fresh slaughtered and bled angus…
I let you take the first swipe… and the second…
and the cut is made, And like a real man…
I will grind your beef into submission. Pearls
of passion stroked flesh.
Drizzling fire cooked shards of sex
Dripping.
.
The stone ground flowers of receiving grace
accept my peppering of hand cut 
tomato and lettuce, and my sure hand
has grated the milky dreams of
your favorite cheese… dangling
from the precipice of fingers
sullied by the blood of 
your kill.
.
Pant inward this orgy of ethnic and not,
I will top you off with tangy salsa 
dances, spoon effigies of
hand cut cool as if
into the very mouth
of your want.
.
I deliver you, I feed you.
I bring you… multitudes.
I reignite your hunger.


Shall I suggest you start your own taco tag?

chriswwriter:

Taco Cart Deliverance

A romance of fresh slaughtered and bled angus…

I let you take the first swipe… and the second…

and the cut is made, And like a real man…

I will grind your beef into submission. Pearls

of passion stroked flesh.

Drizzling fire cooked shards of sex

Dripping.

.

The stone ground flowers of receiving grace

accept my peppering of hand cut 

tomato and lettuce, and my sure hand

has grated the milky dreams of

your favorite cheese… dangling

from the precipice of fingers

sullied by the blood of 

your kill.

.

Pant inward this orgy of ethnic and not,

I will top you off with tangy salsa 

dances, spoon effigies of

hand cut cool as if

into the very mouth

of your want.

.

I deliver you, I feed you.

I bring you… multitudes.

I reignite your hunger.

Shall I suggest you start your own taco tag?

(via whiteysplace)

Done waffling for now. I need to get some work done. Having decent inventory is a key factor, and one that I loathe from time to time. I enjoy making them - it has become a small addiction. It soothes my mind and it’s what helped during my recent darkness. However, I absolutely can’t stand putting up the listings, the editing, the picture software to make the pictures bright and shiny, the price punch, the number crunch…

But, it is what it is: my dream. And I know if I work at it and sanctify it a little bit, it will be a successful dream. 

mermaidsbite:

Poetry Illustrated (my dashboard)

mermaidsbite:

Poetry Illustrated (my dashboard)

Oh, Spring!

You rotten little wench
- a rollercoaster I don’t want to ride
with more twists and turns
than a six-second bull