𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧
wow, look at the oven. it's so rusty. it's so filthy. how old must this oven be, what atrocities must it have seen to be this fucking putrescent? why did nobody at least give it a seasonal spray or scrub? it's splatters of debris is like someone puked up a brownie and let it dry to crust. even opening it you can hear it creaking like the bottom of an osteopenic spine.
it sits there flatly on display in this big insulated castle, cramming with tour guides and pedestrians, who are licking up every crumb of remaining history yet still trying to preserve it's medieval linings.
the servants quarters and cogs that kept this building afloat still being neglected and swept under the rug as always. only the monarchs and earls, counts and marquesses, lords and ladies give that true hit of time travelling dopamine the average bystander clings onto as they wander through, past the sorry sight of the kitchen.
grab a leaflet on the way out.
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𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 | ✔
Poetry"𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬." ugly poems for withering minds. © teething 2023