I stopped writing
because I was happy.
The part of me that wanted to rip my heart from my chest
like the jaws of life just to watch it writher on the black top was gone.
Gone with it my desire to slash the caverns of my mind for some inspiration, bloodletting pain into something that could resonate with myself and maybe someone at Denny's at 4:15 a.m.
Yet like an addict I always seem to slither back to an old friend.
Oct 3, 2022
Oct 3, 2022 at 9:07 PM UTC
I stopped writing
because I was happy.
The part of me that wanted to rip my heart from my chest
like the jaws of life just to watch it writher on the black top was gone.
Gone with it my desire to slash the caverns of my mind for some inspiration, bloodletting pain into something that could resonate with myself and maybe someone at Denny's at 4:15 a.m.
Yet like an addict I always seem to slither back to an old friend.
