Tag Archives: pleasure/passion/pain
I should probably put the pen down, because I might make a mess, but there’s a few things here, I want to confess. I just dyed my hair, because I thought I saw a random grey, I bought new jeans … Continue reading
He wanted to be Kurt Cobain, except Cobain was already gone, and he was still here, though he didn’t want to be. He made me his muse, I didn’t want to be, but I was. So I played my piano, … Continue reading
To My Gut Instinct: You have an impeccable record. That said, I’m sorry I’ve ignored you lately. It was nothing personal, which is literally the reason I ignored you. Please remain impeccable, even if from time to time, I knowingly … Continue reading
I am unable to write, not a good sign, especially at this, particular moment in time. I’ve been scribbling down rhymes, hating each one more than the next, considered going Carrie Bradshaw on your asses, and start blogging about sex… … Continue reading
Blinded by Bukowski, temporarily, instead of pen, i’ll write in pencil, to ensure my words are me.