General scribbler
There is Sweat on my skin. It clings to me, Sticks to me Much like a parasite would. I wish to wash it off. But sweat is no longer a parasite
By J. L. Balmer6 years ago in Poets
I have spent a long while swirling words around my brain. Sometimes they sit there manifesting, slowing burning away and suddenly, they dissipate. Gone from the mind.