I sit in my glass box and stair at the stars. I feel suffocated but weightless in the abyss of my thoughts. And I choke on the emptiness as I swallow the words. They seem to eat me alive.
Following
Stories by Cindy Sinclair
Yesterday
In which a broken boy longs for yesterday
obsession
a visual expression of my obsession with words
poetry, prose, and the likes
HYYH The Notes Chronologically
All the notes from HYYH The Notes in chronological order. These are not my translations, I simply typed them...
