God's unsents, 2

4
Starlights die across human sight as secrets die between your breath and mine.

5
Born from a rumor of senses, my truth will never get past your skin.

6
I am not a writer. I hurt reading a world that cannot read itself.

7
The word is, in the end, mortal.

Most checked out

To rebel, to never rush

Reflections after reading The Beach by Alex Garland

Thinking inside the black box

Some Stuff

The secret to a good story

Dwell

The dearth of middle-aged heroines

Notes on 'Arsenic and old lace' and the insane

Disjointed