

Puke WritingMy heart, soul, feelings throw up. And my writing happens. The laptop is my therapist, this document our conversation, the empty page filled with questions. Whatever doesnt get out into the air through spoken word comes here for admittance instead; breaking out and freeing itself through my stories, papers, and random paragraphs of rant. My mind talks to the computer, finding solace in the type of my fingers, the words it finally wants spoken, typed onto the screen. The conversation it wants heard being said. Kept. Saved in an empty file labeled random or perhaps even storiesPuke Writing


Thoughts on Writing Writing so tedious, so seemingly forced. But so familiar, loving and wonderful at the same time. Its love. Put into words, written down in stories. The very act, the very written word. Love. Hated and garnered, cherished and forgotten. Oh, my mind, my mind, for all that I pry, I can not come up with one decent tale. Despite this, my fingers come back, relishing the craft, the words, and the syllables, almost narcissistic in the self-love. I hate my self, yet, when I write IThoughts on Writing


BrokenThe earth is cold, damp as she lies upon the ground. It rejects her with its barren cold, its hard surface, a layer she can’t penetrate.Broken
Her body wills itself to sink, beneath the rain. Beneath the cold, grey, darkened sky that is spilling frigid and relentless tears. Her hands are opened, pressing and begging. Her nails are covered with wet, mud, and grass, sticking just barely into the hard surface of the ground she lays on. Her dress is torn, flayed and ruined, mud seeping into the rips, and ice water soaking through to her skin, chilling her to the bone.  
Love you..
Appreciate it very much
oh by the way if u like to watch my work in the future you are most welcome to do so.
If u don’t know how to add me to ur watch list just ask me
Have fun and share some
Oh & my page!!!
[link]
Have a look when u get some free time
And tell me what u think of it
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