❛❛Woven between,
breath and thought ,
the madness of angels,
falls from the lips of poets ,
drunk on ink and possibility❛❛.



A writer on it's wrath, 
a power, in its hand .
war ,inside the mind.
 gift, the written work .

 A messy bun locking curls . Keyboard under the finger tips mind in the wandering imagination.
On a bridge between reality and my own dreamland 

Wanna visit 
,
 doors are my books....