‘[...] Fresh air and suffocating burned gasoline’
Home is a pain sometimes.
I wonder if it was my hands that lit you in the first place
written August 1, 2016 at 8:18 PM
Sleepless/ ˈslēpləs/ adjective: Some nights are spent in fear of the next morning. As if I don't close my eyes, nothing bad will happen.
Fair warning, this is a super depressing read, sorry about that
These paragraphs are not a story nor a poem, these sentences are just soon to be forgotten memories --a mirage; or so I wish.