girl-aflame's Diaryland Diary

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It Grew In Me

Sitting in my ungodly hot loft listening to Bradley stream Mumford and Sons from the iPad below.

Look darling, I properly punctuated it for you.

I feel my creativity gnawing inside my stomach, pacing like a madwoman imprisoned in darkness. Let me out...

But through what mouth? A mouth for kissing must never weep. A mouth for pressing to sleeping necks must never sing siren lyrics.

I still miss being possessed.

10:39 p.m. - Monday, Nov. 22, 2010

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