I Have Somewhat Of A Confession To Make.I've really not been in a great place lately. To be quite honest, some of the time I'm really not okay.
Be Nosy About My Love LifeSo, I don't do these things very often, but for I guess personal reasons (?) or something I do want to fill out this one. So, nicked from Catothecat .
Because Writing Keeps Me Human Just because it is burning my mind, and it holds a grenade that blasts everything I have into remnants of his musky scent; because I feel like I'm gagging, except that I'm coughing poems and vomiting metaphors; because words can be a crumpled piece of paper drowned in tears, and every poem written can be blended into fiction; and because my limbs feel like they had been devoured by the lava in the words and the music notes I play sink deep between the piano keys, and apparently banging the keys does not help silencing the empty screams at night.
She Sent Me RosesMother Nature gave you a gift.
One Small, Beautiful ThingOne small, beautiful thing,
The DarknessStop, please, no. Why.
A Guide To SurvivingYou can't make it,
Gram, Gramps, and Mr. Jack Rough CutMom always claimed that Gram and Gramps were the kind of folks you’d see amongst those moonshiners, toothless, chew spitting, hill bastards with the roar of the wild in their bones. Dad never disagreed but did try and correct her to something of the likes of ‘farming folk’.