The annihilating strokes slashed across my penned heartfelt words.
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...
I assumed this yoke would encase me as well as any another hobble. Only this one bound the mind.
My eyes hunger to read more books then time allows me to devour.
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.
Teachers' favorite color ink, splashed and dripped down his face a grisly reminder of mistakes bruising his life.
Butterfly upon my hand, A voice of wonder within my mind, not my own but the butterfly's.
Tongue and hand tied, I was equally cut off and trapped in my own silent dark tomb.
Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around their twisting tongue. If a tongue twister's tongue could twist, how many twists would the tongue twister's tongue...
The ink line drawing flowed the cursive journey,created on paper canvas that brought the story to life.
Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around the twisting tongue.
Widening blood puddles spilled from suffocating death wounds.
Real women don't love the richest guy in the world they love the guy who can make their world the richest.
His eyes, if anything, gleamed even more bright, having found the treasure he sought.
His eyes never blinked or wavered from mine, encompassing me in a field of control.
Miranda Writes: Anything you say or do may be used for or against you within a story by a writer
A spiritual journey is becoming what one has always meant to be-come and always was. One with God's Spirit.