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.
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...written on 2009-10-23, @ 1:53 p.m.
The stories are dying like autumn leaves. Yellowed pages wither and turn brittle in the cool gusts of coming winter. We listen to the crackle beneath our feet and imagination the thin layer of ice soon to come. Under all that white and transparency there are secrets hiding. Oil-slick ink detailing the whereabouts of adventurers. With picks and salt and fingertips we break through and let words free to soften the cold, cold night.