The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
The plant in the top photo looks like some alien space spider. I would not want to walk through a field of alien space spiders. They probably burrow their seeds under your skin, which then grow into obscene boils of black space goo. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Anything with seeds is just a vehicle to invade your body with pestilence. Vile flowers will grow in your abdomen; your skin will itch unbearably. I once had a watermelon grow in my testicles. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Sometimes a wind will blow a flower's seeds into the air, and you cannot help but breathe it in, you cannot stop it. I do not want daffodils in my lungs, I already feel short of breath just thinking of it. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
There is ivy growing along the outside of my intestines, winding and wrapping and tightening around them with each day, relentless. I am afraid the ivy will wrap around my spine and reach my brain. Maybe it already has. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I can feel the ivy tighten around my brain: I will be forced to obey its will. All my dreams and aspirations, gone: I am now simply a host to ivy. My thoughts turn to tree limbs and brick walls. Inevitable. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I have the dream again where I go to urinate but -- instead of urine -- a long tendril of writhing ivy makes its way out the end of my penis. It slithers across the bathroom, the faucet, the cabinet, the showerhead, as if looking for something of which I do not understand. It pulls itself slowly back in, and I tremble in fear of my next bowel movement. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I do not understand the ivy's motives, I only know that I am helpless to resist. My fingernails have grown dull black, and I am constantly thirsty, but I find that I am increasingly growing stronger, I can do chin-ups two-hundred at a time and I can feel the ivy wrap around my biceps. I am beginning to understand. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I have the dream where my sixth-grade teacher is performing fellatio upon me, only now when I orgasm I ejaculate narrow tendrils of slithering ivy down her throat, I can feel them pull from me as they enter her deeper, deeper. Her eyes grow wide and yellow as a sunflower then grows out of my teacher's vagina; crows come to eat the seeds. I wake up sweating, and I can feel ivy in my pores. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I have become the New Man, and as the New Man it is only right for me to procreate, the ivy around my brain tells me so. I now find myself watching women collect flowers in the park and the ivy tickles inside my testicles. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
The thoughts grow stronger, even painful: I must implant my pods into a uterus, there are so many pods. My breath smells of wet forest. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Despite the ivy encircling my brain I have a moment of clarity: is it God's will that I procreate and start a new species of Ivy Man to take over the Earth, or does God intend me to stop this by killing myself with my own hand? Oh how my testicles ache. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I was never one to consider suicide, but is it still suicide when the act is the only way to save mankind? Would that simply be sacrifice? Do I have it in me? I have always had troubles with the big questions, and I sense with fear that the ivy is beginning to understand my thinking: time is short and getting shorter. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Would the world even recognize the immensity of my sacrifice, or would there just be a short column in the paper about a local schizophrenic man dead by consuming pesticides? I thought I used to hate plant life back then, but now...
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20 comments:
Your plants are Leadplant on top and Purple Prairie Clover on the bottom. Both plants native to american tall grass prairie.
I love Leadplant (one on top). It has been a real pain to get going from seed, though.
Leadplant is Genus Amorpha. Is that today's theme?
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
The plant in the top photo looks like some alien space spider. I would not want to walk through a field of alien space spiders. They probably burrow their seeds under your skin, which then grow into obscene boils of black space goo. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
No revery?
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Anything with seeds is just a vehicle to invade your body with pestilence. Vile flowers will grow in your abdomen; your skin will itch unbearably. I once had a watermelon grow in my testicles. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Sometimes a wind will blow a flower's seeds into the air, and you cannot help but breathe it in, you cannot stop it. I do not want daffodils in my lungs, I already feel short of breath just thinking of it. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
There is ivy growing along the outside of my intestines, winding and wrapping and tightening around them with each day, relentless. I am afraid the ivy will wrap around my spine and reach my brain. Maybe it already has. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I can feel the ivy tighten around my brain: I will be forced to obey its will. All my dreams and aspirations, gone: I am now simply a host to ivy. My thoughts turn to tree limbs and brick walls. Inevitable. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I have the dream again where I go to urinate but -- instead of urine -- a long tendril of writhing ivy makes its way out the end of my penis. It slithers across the bathroom, the faucet, the cabinet, the showerhead, as if looking for something of which I do not understand. It pulls itself slowly back in, and I tremble in fear of my next bowel movement. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I do not understand the ivy's motives, I only know that I am helpless to resist. My fingernails have grown dull black, and I am constantly thirsty, but I find that I am increasingly growing stronger, I can do chin-ups two-hundred at a time and I can feel the ivy wrap around my biceps. I am beginning to understand. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I have the dream where my sixth-grade teacher is performing fellatio upon me, only now when I orgasm I ejaculate narrow tendrils of slithering ivy down her throat, I can feel them pull from me as they enter her deeper, deeper. Her eyes grow wide and yellow as a sunflower then grows out of my teacher's vagina; crows come to eat the seeds. I wake up sweating, and I can feel ivy in my pores. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I have become the New Man, and as the New Man it is only right for me to procreate, the ivy around my brain tells me so. I now find myself watching women collect flowers in the park and the ivy tickles inside my testicles. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
The thoughts grow stronger, even painful: I must implant my pods into a uterus, there are so many pods. My breath smells of wet forest. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
"Your plants are Leadplant on top and Purple Prairie Clover on the bottom. Both plants native to american tall grass prairie."
Thanks for that; it helped me identify one of the beach weeds we have here - False Indigo.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Despite the ivy encircling my brain I have a moment of clarity: is it God's will that I procreate and start a new species of Ivy Man to take over the Earth, or does God intend me to stop this by killing myself with my own hand? Oh how my testicles ache. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
I was never one to consider suicide, but is it still suicide when the act is the only way to save mankind? Would that simply be sacrifice? Do I have it in me? I have always had troubles with the big questions, and I sense with fear that the ivy is beginning to understand my thinking: time is short and getting shorter. I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Plant Life says:
Would the world even recognize the immensity of my sacrifice, or would there just be a short column in the paper about a local schizophrenic man dead by consuming pesticides? I thought I used to hate plant life back then, but now...
I try to stay on the sidewalk.
The man with the Inordinate Fear of Bees says:
Never mind.
The Prairie flower...that would have to be Willa Cather, of course.
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