She walks, barefoot, Across the shattered glass of her broken dream. Soles, tender like those of a child, Cut open, bleeding upon those splintered shards. Waking pain, a tender agony, at least they Bring something to this timeless abyss. She groans, rolls over, In the infinite spirals of her mind she turns. Staring, eyesContinue reading “Insomniac”
Writing has always been a part of me, as opposed to something that I do. It comes in sporadic outbursts and disjointed fragments, bubbling up from the subconscious parts of my soul, seeping from the closed corners of a heart that remains mysterious and foreign to me.