Clothes fly, objects tumble, and footsteps crash through the space. Every movement is hurried, desperate, driven by time slipping away. But beneath the flurry, something lingers, an ache, a pull, a moment waiting to be felt.
Poems that you may or may not like.. A little offensive to some. And I may swear. Sorry. All poems were written by me. UNDER MAJOR RECONSTRUCTION NEW FORMAT AND STORY ORDER. GETTING ILLUSTRATIONS TO GO ALONG. TRADE MARKED AF RN
This is a collection of small things I will write randomly. They probably won't be good, but I need an outlet, so it's happening. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Please don't hate me for it.