Reads
About Indie, love triangles, and destruction
Not about Ninjas
Faces
Of fabulous inventions
Scrap paper poetry
The Girl
Is trying to figure out who she is one day at a time.
more?
Loves
Frowns on
Disclaimer
EXit if you hate it.
Defib
...written on 2008-06-18, @ 2:47 p.m.
"Clear," barely mumbled. Almost too soft to be heard over the rumbling beast. It roars and adrenaline, like a fine cognac, warms your insides. There is no sipping gentility here though. The heat overwhelms, almost feverish, and devours you. You would do anything for the crushing ice of winter in your lungs.
Another roar, a rush, and it is there. Sweet relief. Cold wind wraps around you like a blanket, a gentle reprieve from the ominous heat between your knees, from the chemical rush in your body. You've surpassed the whipping wind, the fear of harsh gravel, and the dread of bright lights and it is almost healing. Almost beautiful.
And then it ends as quickly as it began. The beast no longer growls but purrs as it stumbles into sleep. You are left-the desperate, defeated insomniac- and so is the dark.