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“words in my own reality, my own mind, are trapped there, screaming to escape as lines and curves as throbbing black blood onto the crisp ivory paper, sitting placidly, below my trembling hand, hair falls into my face, coldness burns in my bones, my thoughts choke me as I sit in pure agony, plummeting into the intoxicatingly sweet hands of madness” — L.S.
words in my own reality,
my own mind,
are trapped there,
screaming to escape
as lines and curves
as throbbing black blood
onto the crisp ivory paper,
sitting placidly,
below my trembling hand,
hair falls into my face,
coldness burns in my bones,
my thoughts choke me as
I sit in pure agony,
plummeting into the
intoxicatingly sweet hands
of madness