I paint
last night I began to paint. I painted and painted all night until she opened her eyes and ran out screaming. My choice of canvas
last night I began to paint. I painted and painted all night until she opened her eyes and ran out screaming. My choice of canvas
Why are you scared of me? You say it is my eyes But my darling, my eyes are only a reflection of yours Why will
i want someone to be silent with i have plenty to talk to at with among but not one to cavort in the silence with
i would tell you my story, but i do not think you want to hear it i would sing you my song, but i doubt
I have been living in your sterile, white world for a month now. As I am sitting across from you, waiting for them to wheel
it is a sadistic hunt to search, with such heart such intensity for one bird the one with the wings different and the song she
if you touch it you’ll break it me if you look too long it will crumble my lie and if you take it my dear,
“Intrusive memories. Nightmares. Flashbacks” but are they intrusive if they are all you have left? Are they really nightmares if they happen when you are
because I like the emptiness i hunger for the hurt and have grown to miss it in those few moments when it is not settled