My love is as a fever longing still, For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now Reason is past care, And...
I just took part in one of the best things ever: Humans vs Zombies. But, we didn’t play it on a college campus, oh no, we played it with 40+ people throughout the TOWN. So many good humans were lost to the horde today, but they rest in my zombie heart. I am so sunburned and sore. It feels so right.