Wind tunnel


Sitting a few feet from her, and not being able to hold her hand. Always guarded between her lovers. I wonder if they let her piss alone.

In the same room, and her disgust x3 fills the empty space. How deep does this motherfucker go? Perhaps only death separates us. I wonder if they know we all die alone.

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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