writer-artist-thinker-reader
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Flash Fiction: The Rumors
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Poem: Decay
My youth has grown old and I feel the pain.It isn’t me to be this way, but this won’t go away.I could curl into a human ball, roll me up the plank.Let me wither away on my arms and legs.Let my heart feel darkness on the rough waters.Or, I might fall into the open mouth
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Journal Entry Type #199: Eye Opener of Sorts
What I Last Watched
Netflix
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Movie
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Pisaries Creator 