this is run-on

this is the begining of an end, quite like every begining, and quite like any end. it is the story of words unwritten and stories untold. of giggles unheard and of tears unshed. it is the begining.

the pages of the book roll back as if the invisible backspace button is hit uncontrollably, in rage, in love, in insistance, in guilt, in shame, in persistance. the ink blots, stops, and as quickly removes its own sticky stain and vanishes.

just like love. just like rage.

there are no circles, no shelter in this storm. i want to relish its ride, i want to run out and drench myself in its loving, angry weeping, i want to laugh and dance in circles and catch its tears on my tongue.

perhaps, we all need therapy. we’re all our worst enemy.


Author: c

my world, out of your reach

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