pitch black, leave the light from the computer screen
sitting here, i'm scarcely moving, barely breathing- god forbid I disturb
such tranquility.
i feel...so much from so little
a tremor
steadily, it grows, evolves, takes shape- a pulse, throbbing against my lips
whose is it?
sitting here, i'm scarcely moving, barely breathing- god forbid I disturb
such tranquility.
i feel...so much from so little
a tremor
steadily, it grows, evolves, takes shape- a pulse, throbbing against my lips
whose is it?