I don't even have anything really to say. I just really didn't like the other journal open.
also, I'm considering taking requests Chuck me a message if you're interested.
There's white-noise on my tongueThere's white-noise on my tongueThere's white-noise on my tongue by Love-Junk
and bitter-blood in my ears
our lives are not our own;
for perception is reality--
and the reality is that we're all so,
This broken sky stolen
from my lungs, cigarette-grey clouds
& a rain of ink.
Wake up, dead girl.
Your dreams are butterfly wings
Inside a tornado.
But, oh, no, that's not what I meant.
Only how I really felt, when I said it.
I like Sleep. Sleep's good. Art's nice, and writing (well) is hard.
I could totally go for like... 20 hours sleep right now.