November 2011
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Clonazepam is a hell of a drug.
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This essay needs to go kill itself and I need to...
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writing.: #31
lomticksoftoast:
She is breathed into existence, by a whisper from chapped lips The figure, the frame, like smoke as paint on a nude canvas Blown over the age of innocence, tendrils flashing. This woman, bound by reasonless faith, Strapped to the bow, in heroic verse beyond the chants Choked up with wads of cotton The droning invocations resound to lure her, lulling her These trembling...
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Tonight I’m going to smoke a pound of weed and watch ‘Immortals’ in 3D.
Again.
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