These injuries are hard to heal. My haunting nightmares appear so real. Everday so dark and unclear. My wholo body tenses up in fear.

Gossip. Oscar Wilde once remarked that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. But is it really true that words can never hurt you?

poem

Ounces of scrawny light segued through cracks in the basement window at the Hopkins Library, stressing a visual taint of her tired eyes

She said unexpectedly that she loved me and would let me touch her.

For you are here, and everywhere where like- minded spirits read your words.(breathe them, eat them)

if i knew what it was it would be great. dont you ever have times what you feel a bit happy, for no resason. well i think this is what this is about. please let me know what you think