"grogginess" poems
Have you ever sat until some part has gotten really numb?
It happened to me yesterday to the left cheek of my ***
At first I didn't notice until I tried to up and stand.
What should have been so simple didn't go exactly as I planned.
Initially I rose ***** without any feelings of being sore.
But that changed quite abruptly as my nose impacted the floor.
I don't think I was down too long as the hurt still felt quite new.
Initial pain was somewhat lesser from the grogginess as I came to.
The doctor says it isn't broken and the redness will fade away.
I hope it is so tomorrow as it isn't feeling any better so far today.
For those there to witness much laughter was enjoyed by some,
as I crawled into the ambulance to avoid walking with half a ***
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:00 PM UTC
I was conscious the moment her hand touched mine.
It felt as if I was sleep waking in a beautiful dream.
I had no insight to anything before that. No remembrance of if I dreamed or not.
There was no grogginess no want to close my eyes.
I felt at peace laying there watching her stare back at me.
The simpleness of it all.
The experience of something so precious shrewd in nature
To be perfectly honest there is no place I'd rather be.
Her voice assured a deep well that cured need for thirst,
the sheer depth of a look shared from eye to eye.
I told myself it was just a dream,
But when she touched me; I refused to wake
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
No time to sleep,
when i'm always awake for
creativity
I like to think i can rest,
but my mind implodes
with cresting thoughts.
they don't pause for sleep,
they are instead dragged on.
By my grogginess.
i bid you (reminiscing) adieu
my fair love that's true.
for the night my mind stirs,
and in the morning old thoughts
occur.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Toddlers can put green crayons in the freezer without
Anybody questioning them and I
Have a problem with that.
I have a problem with the fact that toddlers can put
Green crayons in the freezer and tell their parents that they are
Preserving
The Earth and that they’ve been learning about
Animal adaptations and conjunctions in school
And that they
Love
Their friends.
I have a problem with the fact that a
Toddler’s idea of
Beauty
Is a butterfly landing on their finger during
Recess, a snowflake on their tongue, the
Grogginess of staying up past 8:30,
Scooby snacks, Dora the Explorer,
The satisfaction of scraping the
First chunk out of a tub of butter, the
Giddiness and fear at your first sleepover,
The one where you had to timidly shake your
Friend awake in the middle of the night because you could
Not for the
Life of you find the bathroom.
I’m not ashamed to admit that
I haven’t said I love you in a time that
Lingers like the smell of burning.
It’s always love you or love ya and I’ve
Forgotten what it feels like for those words to
Caress my lips, to guide my heart
Out of its cage into the
Stale air.
I want to be considering beauty like a
Toddler. I want to be watching Dora and
Learning about conjunctions, but instead I’m
Crying because I can’t fit into my jeans right and I
Don’t know how to do makeup. I want to say
I love you and let it
Ring in the air like
Frozen music
But I can’t
Because you’re
States away and instead I brush my hair
So many times for people who don’t even like me that
There’s no personality left.
I have a problem with the fact that you
Moved on so quickly and left me with the
Loves me not flower petal and that
Dora the Explorer is not on Netflix
Anymore and the price of Happy Meals goes
Up everyday like the age of my
Heart
And that
Toddlers can put green crayons in the freezer without
Anybody questioning them and say that
They
Are preserving the Earth.
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC
POSTICTAL PORTHOLE-(TIME BLOWN BACKWARDS)
Frozen breath holding back weight, against the chest seems great stacked like stones
Starting softly to see from the third door down the row,reclusive, damage is waiting to show
Others in red alert our mind coming on slow, their fear no reflection on our unknowns
Peace while in waiting,thoughts flow slow into a reflecting pool,echos beginning to grow
Time blown backwards when clocks stopped ticking , simple assessments our only goals
Mental evaporation senses left wide open,trying to find the song but only get static from the radio
Held back by grogginess looking out from fogginess ,bits of life as viewed through those holes
Oh MY I made it,escaped , BUT when will blackness call again,laying low not quite thinking of that other plateau
Bolted ,jolted rousing frequently followed by drowsing,hearing as a low hum ,sounds soon forming new tones
Nonexistentance now part of the ritual ,for the witness memories are visual,slowly waiting to say hello
Perspective has changed, await for thoughts to be rearranged ,senses in collusion with massive confusion,new beginning like waiting for future episodes . R.C.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
Times between night and mornin,
Just when the chill about sets in,
Limbs frantically search for that crumpled quilt
Increasing warmth and ahh sweet grogginess.
A dream floats in my blank sleep
You and me tootling along a forgotten, familiar street
In a battered old Hyundai Santro?? it is.
Twenty years of acquired cobwebs melt
Evoke fond memories and unexplored possibilities
Overlaid with a wild imagination, the images move in slow motion
Me driving, your gaze surveying the landscape
You are older and plumper, I have a beer belly and a bald patch
There is not much to say, or too much to say but no time.
Four Eyes frequently lock and search for something
Knowing it but daring not to say.
Your sultry liquid voice breaks into a song, an old Urdu ghazal,
Of obscure origin and meaning,
The notes glide and acquire shapes in your husky abused throat,
Silvery quicksilver, flowing, and always round at the edges
Unfettered and undisturbed by the bumpy ride and noisy springs
Brings whole of creation in the Battered old Hyundai Santro Still.
The vocal vibrates and resonates in my bones and skull and in my soul
Stimulates humours I didn’t know exist
Eyes lock again, a mild smile is exchanged,
We understand each other
Know the limits and improbabilities
Its not going to be in this life time dear.
Let’s seal it with a kiss
An embrace exchanged over the gear levers and handbrakes
Oblivious to the barreling old Hyundai Santro
Your tiny ******* and Pantene scented hair
Your lips still perfect, soft, warm, moist and downy at the corners,.
Unfamiliar yet so familiar.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
I want to fall in love with his bad days
His insecurities
Become a best friend to his loneliness, his fears
A partner to his loathing
I want to love him for all he thinks he isn't
So I can prove him wrong and kiss away his hate
I want to fall in love with his tears
His messy hair in the mornings
His grogginess before his cup of coffee
His clumsy and nervous stutters
Everything about him, I want to find myself fawning over
I want to give him my all and love his everything
Because love doesn't pick and choose
It consumes all or it leaves with nothing
If I only choose to love his shimmer in the sunlight
Or his childish smiles and giggles
Then it would be as if I loved a portrait
Our love would only tarnish and fade with time
I will love everything or I will not love at all
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
And so I fall again
Into the blackest cycles
The dark patterns
Of dreary steps
Running on auto
Not feeling like I ought to
Piloting the craft through
Though taking many hits to the hull
And perennial pardon ,
Sure as the sun will rise
With the impending dawn,
****** my plaintive passions
Sickening and splintering the dream
One from which I awake with a start
Bloodshot grogginess
My purest art
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 5:07 AM UTC
I will remember the waking
Of many mornings
Golden 7 a.m.s filling the room
Grey grogginess of nightmares melt
The most beautiful waking
Is to the sound of birds and rain
Shaking me to wake me up
With a kiss on the hand
You run a close second
Waking up to the sound of you turning
And pulling the covers over your shoulders
And off of my legs
(I don't mind)
We are each other's invitations
To change and growth
And a beautiful garden
Is blooming outside your window
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
My mind woke up, and its first thought was you.
Then my heart rubbed the grogginess out of its eyes and readjusted itself to the newness of the morning.
The instant it realized what my mind was thinking, a pang shot out all through it and it started to ache.
It was reminding me of why I shouldn't.
My heart and head do this every morning, and every morning I make them stop.
It's too draining to deal with on a daily basis.
My mind should know better by itself now, but it’s willing to break every single last rule when it comes to you.
Have you no mercy upon me? Upon my heart? Upon my mind?
Have you no compassion for the pain that you put me through?
Most mornings I feel guilty, as though I should go back to sleep, but there’s no point seeing as you take over my dreams too.
It’s always you, and I’m convinced that it always will be.
I go to sleep, it’s you.
In my dreams? You.
When I wake up... It’s no other than you.
The cycle is vicious.
You’ve overstayed your visit.
Please… just pack your bags and be gone, my head no longer wants to be your home.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 11:15 AM UTC
I wake up to the first note of my alarm
Ringing loudly into my dreams
Pulling me from the depths of sleep
Out thru the ocean of slumber and awake
Never anytime for the snooze button
I have no extra time to spare
I set my alarm for the last possible minute
I stumble into the bathroom
Rough my hair around a little bit
And peel the sleep out of my eyes
I turn the shower on and step in
Standing still for just a few minutes
I think that maybe I may fall back asleep
A lighthearted prayer escapes my lips
Hoping the hot water will be enough
To wake me from this grogginess
But of course it never is
I’d really rather not get ready
And just crawl back into bed
Ten minutes have passed
Now it’s time to get out of the shower
And get dressed
I blindly let the dog out of her cage
Walk her outside to do her business
In the thick early morning fog
She plays around for a few minutes
It’s all the time that I can allow
We rush back up the stairs
And back into the warmth of our home
I hurriedly pack my lunch
From a limited number of choices
And empty cabinets
The dog accepts her treat
And trots back to her cage
She is trained well
The thought occurs to me
That if only people were so well behaved
Maybe I’d enjoy their company more
But I’m running late by now as usual
So I don’t have time to dwell on this thought
As I close the bedroom door
She watches me and I hear her whimper
A soft goodbye with her eyes
I grab my lunch bucket and head out the door
Muttering a poem of early morning under my breath
Which seems to hang frozen in the air
I unlock my car door and slide in
Keying the car on in one smooth practiced process
The radio booms to life because I always forget how loud
I had the music playing the previous day
And my right hand quickly reaches
For the volume **** to turn it down
But only a little
At least until I get out onto the road
Every second of my drive to work
I sit talking myself into not turning back around
To go back home and go back to sleep
Most days I’m successful and I end up at work
Punching the time clock for an eight hour or more shift
Of busting knuckles and periodic book reading
Most days though I really should just turn back around
And go back home and go back to sleep
Most days though I really should never
Have gotten out of bed in the first place
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC
hum...habit...hic...abbott woozy
celebrating with British Royal Family
and...hub bout red dee
to take a snoozy
sup...par'n...this poet
fur...hib bit..bing a lil oozy.
Now this raggedy man
whilst deep in sleep
this past night what felt like galactic body
fell upon ma slumbering heap
affecting immediate fear
lest worst nightmare,
would crush with might
but lo…just then zee spouse
plunked herself
with unconsciousness deep
unable to recapture pleasant dreams
well nigh past day light.
So...rather than emit shrieks
like some angry birds
the idea arose to attempt poem
to express discombobulated state
whereby grey matter feels
similar to thick whey curds
palliative sans restorative power
per rest will clear muddled pate
thick with grogginess
and marauding herds
of mailer daemons worse
than unsuitable mate
or a world wide web filled with nerds
thus lethargy purged
via catharsis with forming words
that follow rhyming pattern
to convey mood = to a synonym for turds.
respite from a cat nap as tonic no lion here
can spell relief and serve as balm
with pillowed temptress ever near
beckons softly inviting calm
before this human
goes a berserk manic tear
being revisited from haunts
inside head of this scrivener
caught by men in white coats
strait jacketing this maniac
in tattered under wear
whose ***** by the way
oh about the size of an average palm
yet taut for witnessing
deux score plus eighteen mortal year.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
touches ungainly in the darkness.
breathes entangled in each other's throats.
hands. roaming. traveling. drifting.
the familiarity of your muscles.
tongue. tasting. consuming. savoring.
the orbit of your back.
fingers. soaking. engrossing. immersing.
the blueprint of your slumber.
your slumber. my slumber.
your face nuzzled in my bird nest.
my arm wrapped like a boa constrictor.
your calf easing my calf.
your early rise. my grogginess.
your gentle smile. your hungry kiss.
drift. drift.
back into the wondrous state.
a world where we both reside.
darling, to sleep by your side
every night of every day
of every month of every year.
i dream. i dream.
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
It was a Saturday morning.
My eyes,
they fluttered,
lashes grazing against
the top of my lids,
pitter, patter, flutter,
am I awake yet?
Hours spent
drifting in, drifting out
somewhere I slipped,
swiftly,
floating in between
sweet, delicious dreams
and soft, serene reality.
The universe opened
wide
just beyond the unlatched windows.
The wind
whispered to me
as it slowly blew by
the quilted drapes.
"The universe is yours,"
it whispered.
Awake, rising,
how I was aware,
senses heightened
by the morning air,
or was it afternoon?
No matter.
Grogginess faded
as my eyes focused
on the whimsical, soft shapes
that shifted, turned,
dissolved, bloated and
withered,
the clouds spoke to
me,
creating a slow, two-step
harmony
in my soul.
Sunlight faint,
that early afternoon light
the kind that
makes everything beautiful,
and poetic,
even the 3, oh wait,
there's 4,
flies buzzing,
circling round and round
the overhead light
were they dancing?
playing a tune?
The sunlight made it so.
'Twas all a chord,
a line from a song,
a poem,
a simple moment
in a complicated world,
and all I felt, smelled, heard, saw, tasted;
I am alive.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Coffee
Rich and dark
Slowly spinning in a white cup,
Therapeutic aromatherapy
Creating a warm feeling
Even sophisticated,
A smell that sells houses
Breakfast
Sizzling, crackling into life
Taste-buds still blurred
From the grogginess of sleep,
Bacon and eggs
Like Morecambe and Wise
An inseparable odd couple
Newspaper
Folded and re-folded
Onto an article of vague interest,
Words from another world
Unimaginable, war torn, desolate,
Colder than the rain-washed street
Outside this café window
Cigarette
The first of the day
Smouldering between yellowed
Fingers moulded to its shape,
Smoke slightly burning eyes
That are awakening to
Another fragment of life
Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 1:15 PM UTC
It was just the tips of your fingers and the way they weren't ashamed to be between mine. The way your skin's not mine, and mine will never be yours, but you loved its freckled smoothness anyways. It's just because my heart broke when every word you passed to me in two a.m. dizziness turned itself into a confession, and the way your eyes gave you away, and apologized for wanting to not be alone tonight.
It's raining today, and I'll never be the weight upon your chest at night, or the pitch you'll tune your self-acceptance to. But I will be the grogginess of morning that never lasts forever, but never fails to come back, and I will love you like the very saddest memory I keep away in my chest. It's not important, but it's where my mind goes when it's windy, so I guess I'll love you there. In the spaces where no one sees it, because no one sees us.
It's just because your smile broke when you said that nothing hurts you. Well, that's certainly not true.
But I will love you like the ocean at midnight, a stillness I'm never allowed to swim in, and can only love from distance.
But I promise to love you anyways.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Who knew I'd fall in love with the musky smell of moss and burning wood
or the small hole near the armpit of your favourite sweater
or the soft smile that graces your lips when you're having a good dream
or the way your eyes light up when you talk about your dreams & aspirations
or the grogginess in your voice when you've just awoken
or the soft pitter patter of your feet on the hard wood
or the faded tiger stripes on the side of your hips
or the twitch of your nose, when you're disgusted
or the little puddle shaped bruise from when you fell as a child
Who knew that I'd fall in love in with the small details before the bigger picture
Who knew I'd fall in love with you.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC
Life
The crack of dawn,
Grogginess kicking in,
Struggling to get up for the day,
Everyday just like the rest,
Same routine,
Sleep. Eat. Learn. Study. Sleep.
But one day something changes,
A kink is thrown in the system,
Nothing is the same again,
Going to school different every day,
Trying to adapt to the change,
But it is hard to change,
To this lifestyle that is different,
Not knowing what to do,
Or what to choose,
For life has thrown a curveball,
In my life plan,
And I don’t know what to choose,
Eventually will have to make decisions,
Which I’m not ready to make,
For I’m afraid if I choose,
I will make a wrong choice,
Time is ticking,
And I have to choose soon,
For not being ready is not helpful,
It is coming too fast,
For panicking is what I’m doing
Do I choose sports or school,
Will I make the right choice,
Or suffer my own doom,
These choices will help mold my fate,
And the pressure of the choices is unbearable,
For I can’t decide a choice,
I love all the stuff I do,
But I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye,
To my friends. Sports. School. Or life too.
For life is going by fast,
And I can keep up with it,
I wish I could just stay back and live in the good ol’ days.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC
Her room was chaos; clothes thrown everywhere, bed unmade, and junk piling every open spot. Even though her father told her time and time again that she needs to find a solution to this trainwreck, the messiness never seemed to cease. She had attempted to tidy up, but somehow the mess would always return; always lurking in the back of her mind, taunting her every second. She washed her ***** clothes, threw away the trash, got rid of unnecessary items, but the mess always returned. She began to lose hope, nothing would bring this to an end. Each time she tried to stop the mess it grew stronger and got progressively worse. Her friends had started telling her she needs to clean her, but she always had an excuse. She would constantly say how she was always too busy, but it was a lie; she had all the time in the world, but she knew her friends just wouldn’t understand how the mess was her own personal bully; it never left her alone and it was a constant reminder of how her disorderly her life had become. One day, she finally broke. Her goal to have a clean room had been demolished and engrossed into the mess itself; similar to her other goals and aspirations. The mess began to spread; her locker overflowed with useless papers, her car filled to the brim with futile garbage; it followed her everywhere. The grogginess from her bedroom poured into the sky, turning it a terrifying shade of gray; lessening her hope drastically. Every single thing she did contributed to the mess and she just couldn’t take it anymore. She went home and just lay there in her unkempt bed with her ***** laundry and empty water bottles and she allowed the mess to overtake her. She stayed trapped inside this mess she created until it consumer her; like it had consumed every other aspect of her life. She never found a solution to the never ending mess.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
What is it that I have done this time to bring the wrath down upon my head?
The burning hatred in your eyes bright with a fury of unknown deeds or words
In my tiptoeing world of never knowing
What blame is pinned to the chest today?
The paranoid delusions of my unsatisfying life failing you with every action
My unworthiness constantly on display that only you can see
I flinch, I tremble, I beg
I endure the belittling, the threats, the humiliations, the staring through me
The **** on your shoe unable to meet your exacting, delusional demands
My unwillingness to bow down at your majesty, your might and intellectual superiority
With the snap of a finger, the rage dissipates
And contrition follows quickly along
If only I would learn, you wouldn’t have to show me my errors
You love me like no-one else would
I am lucky to have you, but I must not keep stepping out of line for you cannot keep doing this
It is for my own good I’m sure
I just don’t think I know or want to know that
And then it is over and the adrenaline is left to slowly creep out of the system
And I want to cry
Not anymore
Not tonight
Tonight I’m going to be free
Free from the sharp tongue
The threats of a pounding unless I comply
The put downs
The constantly being told I am not good enough
And you are the only one for me
I whisper your name
I need you to stir
I need you to see
To feel the coming apocalypse
No movement, no stirring
Again, a little louder
The voice gentle
A parent waking their child without startle
You mutter in the grogginess of dreams
Once more with the hand caressing the cheek
The eyes they open slowly
With some recognition you smile back, but this is the last time that you will
With the anger and vengeance of all those abused, I raise the hammer and with the power of Thor bring it down into the centre of your forehead with a bone cracking thud
The look you gave after the second blow
The look of a confused little boy wondering what had brought this on was overshadowed by the third and final blow
No more
No more threats
No more shouting
No more abuse
No more placating you so you don’t hurt
No more believing what you say
No more put downs
I am worthy
I am good enough
I am my own person
I am me
(You are no more and I am free)
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 4:55 PM UTC
The sticky grogginess of the morning
often wanes as the day lengthens.
Your body begins to crave entertainment,
nourishment,
all sorts of things that are unrelated to sleep.
But after exerting oneself,
you are reminded again of the luxurious feel
of your mattress.
You drag yourself home,
leaving your belongings at the door,
shedding the garb of work and monotony,
and scrub away the grittiness
of the thin film you develop
from a day of human interaction.
Perhaps there is a delicious refreshment
awaiting your empty, tumbling stomach.
You soothe the anxiety rolling in your insides
with each sweet, pillow-y bite
of a chewy sugar cookie,
quenching your thirst with fresh, cold milk,
or a perfect, steaming cup of hot tea.
Finally,
clean,
warm,
and satisfied,
you seek reprieve
in the cool, crisp sheets,
freshly turned down.
The pillows are perfectly placed,
cradling your head,
and the mattress beneath you
is like a cloud
gently lifting you,
carrying you high and rocking you,
as you lay beneath the pleasantly slight weight
of your sheets.
There is a specific moment,
just before you succumb to sleep,
when your body is in such a state of peace and comfort
that you can think of nothing
but giving in to it.
Such a satisfaction can only be described as
bliss.
Your body has no complaints
for the first time all day.
It is perfect,
delectable,
almost guilt-inducing,
like your tea, right between too hot and too cold,
or a bite of chocolate that's neither too bitter nor too sweet.
That moment,
were I to capture it,
and bottle the feeling,
is precisely what it feels like,
to embrace you.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
"are you depressed?"
i wipe my eyes of
slow
grogginess,
i pull myself struggling out of a
fluctuating dream state to rest
temporarily in reality.
"what?"
"oh well... wanting to sleep through everything, and never
wanting to do anything is one of the
leading causes of
depression"
*thanks i really had no ******* idea*
"well i had it all through middle school
so i wouldn't be surprised."
"maybe you should talk to someone about it,"
i packed my things
angrily
loud, in her
echoing teal classroom,
and left quickly.
*she really has no ******* clue*
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
My eyes droop
To the sound
Of the night caving in
And the lights dimming out
My vision clogs
With grogginess and
The mistakes I made today
And the ones I will make tomorrow
So I smile
Because the future isn't certain
And I like mysteries and all,
But one thing is for sure
That every night, before I am consumed by sleep
My eyelids will be imprinted
With your angelic face
Burned into them
And another thing
Although I will make more mistakes tomorrow
I still have you
And that can only mean
That I'll also do something right
And with that
My mind is filled
With fog and clouds and smells
Of days and nights
And a smile tattoos my tired face
Form the memory
Of you
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
I have a love/hate relationship with morning,
And not for the reason you might think;
No, I have no problem with alarm clocks
Or early jobs, cold breakfasts,
Or the grogginess only cleared by a cup (or three) of coffee.
No, I have a problem with literally waking up.
On days I wake up without an alarm clock,
I hate it. Well, hate is too strong a word;
Really, it's bittersweet.
I swim up towards consciousness
From the warm depths of sleep.
I float on the strange, ever shifting barrier of
The dreamworld,
A silver sea rippling with black and white reflections,
Hints of rainbow.
My brain is trying to tell me something,
I'm sure of it, if only I could
See the message for a bit longer.
There is one moment,
One single, tiny, brief, glorious
Moment
Where I know that I'm dreaming.
My dream-self is warm and fuzzy and
Right in the midst of an imaginary...something,
And I know that this instant is all I have left of it.
I strain, focusing all of my real-or-not energy
On decoding whatever it is that I can't quite see.
I revel in the mysterious firing of synapses deep down
Within my brain, forcing pictures of
Life
Onto eyelids that have never seen
The bright-hued portraits
I hang before them.
And I won't be able to think about it
Until that last, final instant,
I try to keep it with me like water in a seive,
But I cannot stop myself from floating up,
Out of Dreamworld, off the surface of the pool,
Away from, from..from....
It's gone.
I can't picture it anymore as I am
Inexorably dragged up towards my life.
I wake, eyes flashing open.
Heart pounding.
Out of breath from my struggle to
See the other side.
A tear escapes from the prison of lashes.
**** I was so close this time...
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC