

that-thing-between-my-lungsAnd that sanguine place inside my ribs, That-thing-between-my lungs, Has been benumbed. I'm not going to say that-thing-between-my-lungsthat-thing-between-my-lungs
aches, simple sayings simply say so Little.
That-things-between-my-lungs does not store love, It does not hold love. I say soliloquies signifying such solitude, But they have nothing to do with that-thing-between-my-lungs. Shouting doesn't come from that-thing-between-my-lungs. Tears don't come from that-thing-between-my-lungs. The catacombs of my chest breathe, beat. But do not love. Desire does not drive me to claw at my
--
maybe the best thing is to stop figuring out
where your going and enjoy where your at.
I hope you're having a wonderful day :]
--
sittinginthisroomplaying
r u s s i a n r o u l e t t e
--
It's called thinking. Go with it.
--
"Your life is an occasion, rise to it."
--
we're high above the ground; we're no where to be found.
--
"Your life is an occasion, rise to it."
--
It's called thinking. Go with it.
--
Other account that I am transitioning from: :iconhoshi-taka:
I will begin to fave/watch once I get things sorted out.
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