This was an entry I wrote before when I still had a blog.
Specks of Passion
When you shout at me I hear a buzzing sort of noise, not the ones I hear during my sleep but somewhat the same sort of nothingness, the type I ignore most of the time and yet it's still there, waiting for me, swallowing the same oxygen from a pretentious room full of stuffed toys. They provide me emotionless guilt, and it drenches ( Read more... )
When you shout at me I hear a buzzing sort of noise, not the ones I hear during my sleep but somewhat the same sort of nothingness, the type I ignore most of the time and yet it's still there, waiting for me, swallowing the same oxygen from a pretentious room full of stuffed toys. They provide me emotionless guilt, and it drenches ( Read more... )
Comments 2
I love the imagery you use, the details, stuff like that. It's like this piece that runs on raw emotion. Really strong emotion.
because pain is an essay. I write to this day...
Awwww. That's such a nice metaphor, though.
Reply
Thank you very much for the comment, as always! :3:3:3
Reply
Leave a comment