The dirt coats me
by now it is embedded into my pores
How long it’s been there
I know not
Days?
Perhaps years
Rivulets of a thousand heartbreaks
cut pathways through it
I journey miles
in search of a river or stream
to wash it away
But all I’m met with
is a wasteland
littered with corpses
of those who were not strong enough
to travel my path
Fiction, and other made-up stories
Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.
One Therapist's Thoughts-Before and After
It's not the length of life, but the depth.
This is my mind, it’s not supposed to make sense.
Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down
Shining the light of truth on delusion
Researching, investigating, and writing about the paranormal.
You either get it... or you don't.
Inky blackness, a yawning void ~
A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz
Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.
the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa
Just my thoughts for all to behold
FOR DISCERNING READERS
🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃
Spiced with stories, served from the heart
Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer
a little bit of this and a little bit of that
Seeking Beauty Beyond the Scars
The home of Emma O'Brien
The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle
I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 
heavy, as usual…I guess we all have dirt like that behind us
I would like a chance to travel that path with you a bit, if you want to take a chance on a friendship. That is all I can offer you – I have a family – but the friendship would be genuine., unconditional, and quite possibly loving