maybe not a cony
nor an enemy
no conversations
no jokes
no roasts
talkative though
and charming
am addicted
(to someone's)
toxic insanity...
© amimoh
Think of this blog as a diary gone public; a mix of spilt ink, overthinking, and poetic chaos. I write what hearts whisper at 2 a.m., then pretend it’s art. Welcome to madness.
My little brother didn’t understand. He dragged a chair, stood on it, pressed his lips to the glass frame of the picture on the wall, and wh...
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