19, I AM London. Travelling musician and fiction writer. Don't give up - Practice flying!
My niece kept asking me about all my scars and it took me a while to explain the stories behind them. Scars are like the bullet points of our lives..
Ill never fade away Ill never fade away Ill never fade away.
She was dying in the Month of songs Struck by a disease from the east A terrible kiss on her distant lips.
She was wed in the month of clans To her sailor cousin from Cullero A shrill bird, drilling at my chest.
She was smiling in the Month of rain Eating figs straight from the tree A dream of sailing around the isles.
She was shy in the month of hearths Hiding from my scented letters A sun-dappled cure for my loneliness.
Developing a new magic system. Would you guys care to help?.
How do you confuse a blonde. Paint yourself orange and throw forks at her..
A dyslexic man walks into a bra..
His plan had dissolved like sugar in tea. Her back had never looked so distant. Her long hair trailed her back, bouncing strenuously as she strode away. /Im lost. I cant make it on my own.
The clock struck thirteen. She awakened slowly, head rising. She stroked her warm finger across his ice cold cheeks, a few sole tears falling from her swollen eyes.
Fear is not evil. It is knowing your own weakness..
I'm jealous of people that get to see you everyday..
Confidence. The sort of confidence that usually comes with money, and makes rich those without it..
She smelt like cinnamon and pancakes. She tasted like sunshine and the seaside and that twang you get when your parents say their proud of you as a child.
Ghost and witches, wolves and scary things..
If you never know, then it could never hurt as much as this does..
I know this princess which lies before me is special. Perfect laugh. Sweetest cry. The toothless grin on her tiny face. Emerald green eyes and a caramel complexion.
Imagine this. You fall in a well and all of a sudden your regarded as some sort of returning Messiah. Well, I guess it wasn’t as simple as that… Come to think of it, it was after a few weeks.
Is the existence of this world ‘believed’. “Do you remember back in Lornera. When a meal a day was nothing but a dream. Poverty. The word was more of a lifestyle then a label.