glorifield

Pain.  Pain tearing through his sensitive neck and down to his chest.  Smith was certain he had never felt anything so sharp and horrible.  The worst thing was that it lasted. It had been several days since his visit to Chris's apartment.  He had since acquired a credit card in the mail and used it to order food from the cracked telephone that hung from the wall.  Food had become an addiction, something that gave purpose to his day.  Today's selection of purpose had been soup and crackers. Exactly 32.4 minutes (he had timed it) after ordering, a lazy knock came at the door. "Just," he said clearly and slowly, "leave it at the door." An au

Dresses with frills flowing your milky arms held high conducting your personal symphony Your face with rage is glowing pushing every word towards the sky until you reach the epiphany: you’re just another anachronism

She traces constellations freckles, There's almost a big dipper on his forehead and enjoys his hiss and compliments,  she knows he adores her but his laugh and voice, crash like a middle school band An hour goes by and conversation drowns, "yes good, yes good, yes good" They quote Power Rangers and Teretino, neither bothering to finish a book The thought of him is not enough, not enough to make her smile He's better when I miss him, she tells herself I love him in small doses