4kelsea

I want to have something to write about, I really do. I want to explain lifelong mysteries that have confuddled the human race for several years, like a hundred year old puzzle waiting to be finished while sitting amongst the rubble and overgrown shrubbery, the ruins of where once an old lady sat mumbling to herself, rubbing her forehead with her thumb and index trying to fill in in the absent pieces and COMPLETE the picture, in long relatable metaphors. I want to push the rules aside and ramble on for once in a series of chicked scrawed print on white parchment, the kind of which would hold written rules and structure. I want to deflower tha

How do I tell you that you take my breath away, that you not only force a smile from harsh unwilling lips, but tears from broken blurred eyes. You look at me as if I'm fragile beauty. You talk to me like you are addressing a strong Amazonian warrior. Funny in this way I am kind of hidden behind a mirror. Your green eyes smile and gleam, and for you my love is not something you have to redeem, my love simply is, just like you simply are, despite the fact that I am still in shock, for as where others would mock and question my sanity, you see a different side of me, one even I'm surprised to find exists. So I hold your hand with m

Floor 89. I think I'm dying, Could it be that I have forgotten how to breathe? In and out with every breath my lungs repeat That monotonous track that sustained my life, The only constant I could've relied on. And now it just stops? I  gasp for air, Find nothing, but the deep, ominous, looming, void Of water that isn't there, Of air escaping in bubbles traveling nowhere. Shouldn't they be traveling upwards unlike the lifeless corpse of which my consciousness still lingers? I think, (Really not the usual habbit of a sinking, lingering, floating cadaver) "Am I dead?" But I begin to feel something, Like the reverberation of a