"...tea is at four. There's plenty of it. You are welcome any time. Don't bother knocking!" -Bilbo Baggins
Pluck a thin string into a melancholic tune, watch it grow in sonic synesthesia
Familiar Cobbled Streets, Pt. I
He meant no harm when he requested I take a seat, he simply hoped I'd return to the familiar cobbled streets.
Ruminations of a Working Man, Pt. VIII: What Sense is There
Moment by moment You next chapter is in progress And as much as you won't like to hear this The words are scrolling past you With every tick of the clock's second hand With ev'ry unfurling of rose pedals Should you meet a wizard It would be well worth the second to make a note... Continue Reading →
I take a look inside a mirror underneath my breath, I whisper "I see something decent in this mental patient because in his eyes, he looks more alive than me." I look past him, over his shoulder and assume he must be a soldier because in his wake, there's a massive quake where he... Continue Reading →