Posts Tagged: Words
Undefined
There are some words That I do not know the meaning of Such as lethargic and catharsis Then there are meanings That I do not know the words of Like how I feel right now
About me
I write for the release. I write, because I have no say in the matter. I believe that it is both a gift and a curse. I want to share that with the world. I write, because I love to
About me
I write for the release. I write, because I have no say in the matter. I believe that it is both a gift and a curse. I want to share that with the world. I write, because I love to
This past week has witnessed the death of me
I’ve been omitting words from conversations I’ve been forgetting some letters in the words I write Like the N in ‘Gree’ I don’t even know why I had written down the word green I thought that today was Sunday, not
This past week has witnessed the death of me
I’ve been omitting words from conversations I’ve been forgetting some letters in the words I write Like the N in ‘Gree’ I don’t even know why I had written down the word green I thought that today was Sunday, not
Same old song
I am troubled by your blasphemous disdain. It is appalling how you constantly refer to writers as fickle. Especially when you are unappreciative of what was written for and about you. As writers, we do not envision something new. We
Same old song
I am troubled by your blasphemous disdain. It is appalling how you constantly refer to writers as fickle. Especially when you are unappreciative of what was written for and about you. As writers, we do not envision something new. We
October
You come to me, your Jesus, With legs spread, begging. Sitting there, nude, as an Unravelled mystery. But, I am your shackles. Holding You down, stroking your Conscience. Your thoughts Drip onto my tongue. You Cry out that you cannot
October
You come to me, your Jesus, With legs spread, begging. Sitting there, nude, as an Unravelled mystery. But, I am your shackles. Holding You down, stroking your Conscience. Your thoughts Drip onto my tongue. You Cry out that you cannot
Taphophile
There’s something beautiful about cemeteries. The comfortable silence, penetrated only by the feel of the misty rain on your face. The clouds block the sun, inviting you to take a better look at what has become of the world. Words
Taphophile
There’s something beautiful about cemeteries. The comfortable silence, penetrated only by the feel of the misty rain on your face. The clouds block the sun, inviting you to take a better look at what has become of the world. Words
Read all about it
I can’t read the books that I picked up, fell in love with, and took home. I can’t read their pages, filled with love and torn romances, battered hearts and sad smiles, unmet glances and one-armed hugs. I can’t read
Read all about it
I can’t read the books that I picked up, fell in love with, and took home. I can’t read their pages, filled with love and torn romances, battered hearts and sad smiles, unmet glances and one-armed hugs. I can’t read
Stephanie
You’re a liar But an honest one You speak words that Melt in my hands When I write Letters and emotions Are just a game And you know exactly How to play
Shrine
It’s why I go to sleep To see that dreamy face of yours I wake up in the middle of the night Just so I can see that smile The one you get when you’re dreaming of me I look
