I used to tell myself these stories as a kid

My brain touches my skull repeatedly it never stops. I'm forced to use this prop as my body, but this imaginary clock wont stop running. I don't know where it's going with this. I don't think I made any sense, and I'm not going home yet because home is where you make it. I keep leaving them behind. Cast to drown in words and lines. Sleep is lost, so is my mind, and everything will be just fine if you get yours and I lose mine. Keeping to myself like planned seems to work better. Maybe not forever but for now its what I got. It's the end of the line, it's the end of the page. // Winner receives signed original writing from 2011 Can redeem a signed and numbered 1 of 1 custom canvas wra...View all