Bits Of Prose
I write Tauros shit sometimes.
Dangle the carrot if you will. Unfortunately I ce...
Almost 27, and what is there to really define...
Who knew that beneath all of that blood was...
There's a thin line between healing and feeling...
I need the melody of their singing etched into...
The bitterness of the world tastes like medicine...
Being scolded like a dog...
Mortality has somehow set in...
This isn't Pompeii...
He's getting better, his touch softer...
I miss feeling specifically your pulse between m...
The screams of the thunder make the Earth fal...