Drip
Drip
Dripping, from some unknown corner of my mind, draws me from my sleep. The others eyes flutter to the sound; un-truth is clearing from their mind. The question of purpose returns as I begin my labor.
Drip
Drip
Dripping, from some unknown corner of my mind, draws me from my sleep. The others eyes flutter to the sound; un-truth is clearing from their mind. The question of purpose returns as I begin my labor.
It's a writers world, a world that seeks to explore and entertain
Philosophy and Poetry for the Mountains
Required weekly reading for the modern guardsman
A Global Divergent Literary and Aesthetic Collective
Reading Into Everything.