All I have are words. I will never be a man of riches, nor privilege, nor exquisite means. I have, instead, only these humble words that pour from my heart; bled through ink onto bone of paper and sinew of print. Words that I have felt so deeply within my very being that they have shaken the surface to be set free into the world. To find their way to that which gives new meaning and sends them soaring on high with such elation and grandeur! Though softly.
For the heart they seek is a delicate thing. As easily bruised as eager to love. For no greater reason has there been to take such care with the words that fall from foolish lips. And yet, for no greater reason has there been to offer such foolishness.
About the Creator
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts5 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
Your words shine with genuine passion.