sure smells good.. like fruits and cream to die for. trees were bending to the will of wind and even in the darkest of the night he is shy when he peers only a little over the ledge of the window at her resting on the table and her breath soft. " i dont mind spending every day.. out in the cold and in the pouring rain.." the small music box on the ledge bleats out in chokes. as if by magic a relunctant sun got pushed into the dark of the room and illuminated everything, turni
stirred by bad feelings, he was crying and he was laughing it was dark. he sent her a short text and another and hoped for the best, whatever best meant. it didn't go away, paranoia and premunitions in their best, eating little bits into a worn out boy. she reassured him it was noise. ki slept in the warm words of her heart. another sunny day in an escape, the big empty room, occupied by a big bed that took up little space, ki was collapsed into a black space of time, thinkin
he nods fervently, for he knows the consequences of one's misadventures. a broken heart and a battered soul, it's a day to be forgotten, nothing of much significance to be happy about.
tragedy hit like a skewed baseball from a unassuming pitch and it hit kid hard. a bloodied nose, pain and a little suffocation in the chest no less. kid feels spent, something he hasn't felt for a long time and kid is humbled by his own humanity. he despises it deeply and feels willied.