My Untouchable Face

The effortless nature of the unreliable narrator

~ Wednesday, February 22 ~

The wind eats at my broken map;
I clutch it and scan each dead horizon.
I keep walking.

Tags: fragment spilled ink writing
1 note

Post via messagestothemoon

Drops

Every vein beating through me,
Begs me to turn away.
They are empty and weak,
Thirsty, and afraid i’ll leak again.

But bleeding is all I know how to do these days.
Red words on paper
Red scars...

Post via messagestothemoon
Post via tumblrfiction

Dirty Talk

lifeencoded:

I want to fuck you violently, she whispered in his ear.

He was all nerves now.

Her hand clawed at his thigh. She leaned closer, nipping at his ear. I want to chew on...

Post via tumblrfiction
Post via justanothertrampofhearts

You remember when you were young and you’d get your jacket caught on a chain link fence? This is kind of like that, only instead of a needle and thread you use a bottle of gin for your suture.

Post via justanothertrampofhearts

Tumblroll