8220;Where can I send these words, I write? March 11, 2015. This suffocated flesh, I carry, makes my chest so heavy. I rise and I fall.

A lost soul in the sea of meloncholy. Loving him is nothing or everything, all at the same time. Loving him is like riding a rollercoaster ride with a dead-end or hearing a bird chirping in my ears when the skies are black.

Juan comes up to the Mexican border on his bicycle. He has got two large bags over his shoulders. The guard stops him and says, What is in the bags? The Curse Of The What-Ifs. Originally posted on Buckets Of Balderdash. I once knew a girl, she was drop dead gorgeous. The moment I saw .

A Place to Just Sit and Read. And what of such ungodly hours and the sacrifices you make. When it will all consume you with its thirsty claws. And you will walk on fire simply for the moments of silence you have dedicating to all that it was. Because it withered away like the words you would often leave. Etched into your wrists for a while. To get them in the closest proximity to your veins, to feel them inside of you. But how long will you keep running farther and farther away.

TYSM FOR 119 WATCHERS! This is the place where you can personalize your profile! As lo.