so writing goes as writing goes. does anyone ever go back and see what theyve done to vagrant bloody hearts.
when the dust settles really. i am discontent. but my money moves all over and i need to work like a little female slave until i bug out and drop to the ground and give them twenty.
less dramatic. but ive been thinking. everything is. a little less than you think when you are younger.
everything is a little less when youre in it. but sometimes it blows up and overflows. and youre drenched in the goodness that is the moment. and you pick up memories to weigh you down to the best parts.
certain spots sting from hurting so good. and others are like an open window from burnt toast. please help me with these analogies. i am rusty at writing.
so i am turning into birthday cakes. and cute things. when did i get gossipy with other women. and delicate with men.
i wonder if everything really goes with the wind. if sometimes when you bleed with the moon. if that means youre not late. youre just with it.
i want to hold hands with ghost souls. old souls. someones loving spirit. all these words on the internet. just blowing in the breeze. attached to silent minds. tap tapping out where they cant let go. flying freely. into the unknown.