A stream of consciousness. Do your passions ever fade or are they just waiting to flourish again?
An exercise in free writing. No agenda, just the idea of a storm passing over a prison yard.
in which she wants to love
My words crumbled like ancient ruins. Centuries of wisdom and accounts of life and love,
From buildings to anxiety.
I literally have no idea.
I've stripped my sheets to get away from you.
i thought i had fucked up again telling you to up and leave when i had wanted you to stay. i didn't though.
Just some free writing poetry I wrote a long time ago.
No stories
No more stories
Opps, something went wrong :(