Mrrf.

i hate when i try to speak and the words get caught in my throat.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

The Fate of the Mediocre Word Artist

Pages blank, leather unbound, quills stilled in the inkwells
Musty books stacked on rickety shelves
Are draped in cobwebs covered in dust themselves
He is nothing now but a skull on a desk
All of his work rots...
Posted by savanna at 7:13 AM
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      • I'm Sorry Nobody Is Honest In This Town
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