I've been looking at the same journal title for three months now. It's time for change.
Someone remind me to update this later? I'm too unmotivated right now to actually write anything meaningful.
DFTBA everyone. Have a good night.
Life Boats for Paper DollsI still throw salt over my shoulder becauseLife Boats for Paper Dolls by RussianTim
it makes the devil thirsty.
He drinks from an oaken bucket.
We can live our lives without him.
I know a tree in Pennsylvania.
A girl nobody saw leaned against the moss
every day after class.
She wrote in a journal as ants
crawled between her silent fingers.
The summer I turned eighteen she tried to
hang herself from it
Not the journal.
I suppose our words may often feel like gallows.
You never forget the first time you
taste sour milk.
The feeling of time's betrayal.
Some things still have to be taken on faith,
not expiration dates.
Today, I saw her under a tree in Minnesota.
She still writes about damnation but only with a smile.
There is something beautiful about rotting wood.