dru
I'm not quite sure how often I will contribute work here. I've lost my muse over the years - to happiness, to lethargy, to "life" and the sick and twisted games it tends to play. My muse is a fickle bitch. She once lived in the back of my closet, thriving on my pain, picking at the hems of my dress and slashing at my ankles with her talons as often as she felt like it. In all of her cruelty, she used me to the point of aching fingers, hands and wrists - I would write for hours as a result of that blessed, beautiful pain. Now, she shows herself in other forms. A softer, more mature spirit, but also quite broken. The light may occasionally find her, procuring words that surprise me, but not often enough, which is why I cannot promise regularity. I can only promise to try.
27/F/American
22/F/California
24/F/Minnesota
24/M
27/New Zealander
21/F
22/M
28/M
