There's no tranquility to writing, you're always thrilling, in some kind of agony to throw out words and make them sensible to the senseless.
YOU ARE READING
existence within earth
PoesiaPoetry in words of a mess, written throughout years of my teenage angst that continues. "Shall wisdom and hell be spoken when my ink turns into blood"
f o u r t e e n
There's no tranquility to writing, you're always thrilling, in some kind of agony to throw out words and make them sensible to the senseless.
