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6 years ago
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1314
3 black demons

grains of sand plummet and pile up at the bottom of the hour glass.
my hands, eyes, and ears frantically work together to create everything possible. my ideas speed faster then my appendages and senses.
with worried eyes and a lowered, pink pout, i make things; only wishing that i will express my heart and soul to the masses in a way they have never seen.
choked up and pinned down, my pupils and retinas wiggle, my breath rockets, and my toes curl upward.
if i can be saved, please notify me.
in the mean time, my black panthers will be my blessed steeds. x

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