Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
. . . In crescendo, its biting sting tolls against the walls of my inner-self, revealing in its pure tone an emptiness nourished on a banquet of isolation. A feast of famine fit for the king of nothing . . .
You're An Alcoholic |
|
1 comment:
I like this. I am still experimenting with different types of writing becuase up until a year ago I only wrote things with perfect meter and rhyme and it got boring. This is so short, yet still makes a point.
Post a Comment