The question I get once upon a never:
From where does your writing stem?
The answer is inside, with a clever, witty reply, and an honest tinge in the vocal happenings.
So another never ever asks:
Where are you, friend? How are the days? What has happened to your writings?
The answers are: somewhere. Not great.
And lastly,
I oft perceive my writings as weakness
And outer showings of a deeper flaw, so forgive me if I seem aloof.
I have not yet managed to find the proper skin to settle.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
The question I get once upon a never:
From where does your writing stem?
The answer is inside, with a clever, witty reply, and an honest tinge in the vocal happenings.
So another never ever asks:
Where are you, friend? How are the days? What has happened to your writings?
The answers are: somewhere. Not great.
And lastly,
I oft perceive my writings as weakness
And outer showings of a deeper flaw, so forgive me if I seem aloof.
I have not yet managed to find the proper skin to settle.
Recent musings with a deep desire to come back to some sort of prose.
