Real women don't love the richest guy in the world they love the guy who can make their world the richest.
Welcome to Book-a-holic Anonymous.Hi, I'm Jazz and I am addicted to the written word. I love the smell of the blackest ink sliding across texture paper. My eyes squint against the loss of time within...
One two, one two, Type a word or two. Arrow left, arrow right, Keep those fingers nice and tight.Keys up, Keys down,Move those digits all around.One two, one two, Type a word or two.
The annihilating strokes slashed across my penned heartfelt words.
Teachers' favorite color ink, splashed and dripped down his face a grisly reminder of mistakes bruising his life.
I assumed this yoke would encase me as well as any another hobble. Only this one bound the mind.
Tongue and hand tied, I was equally cut off and trapped in my own silent dark tomb.
Butterfly upon my hand, A voice of wonder within my mind, not my own but the butterfly's.
My eyes hunger to read more books then time allows me to devour.
His eyes never blinked or wavered from mine, encompassing me in a field of control.
Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around the twisting tongue.