It was the smell of old beer exhaled from lungs passing across a dip of Skoal that brought it all back. . .
hands tightening around my throat
threatening to stop the flow of precious air
knowing that he thought so little of me
that he didn’t care whether I lived or died
and that if he killed me he would feel no remorse
because he would believe
until his last breath
permeated with the smell of Bud Light and chew
that I deserved it
Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.
i've choked on my words for far too long
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 ~
"Eye Fly High"
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
🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃
A baking and dessert blog.
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.
Paul Johnson's comedy blog: I didn't get into comedy to be rich or famous. All I've ever wanted was to be loved...by somebody rich and famous.
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 
Nobody deserves to be treated like that. I’m sorry those kind of memories still carry such force
I think until I can trust a man enough to only touch me with kindness and love, then they still will.