Sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs, so loudly that the earth rattles below my feet, so thunderously that cracks start to weave through the streets and swallow cars and houses…
In a dimly lit bar somewhere in New York, the words I Still Love You are scribbled hastily on a bathroom wall. I wrote these words for you. They rest inconspicuously amongst a sea of…
I’ve never claimed to be a fan of it. I’m a writer, I like words, and trap music eliminates the need for comprehensible lyrics. Which is fine, because I’m pretty sure I already know what…
THERE. It is written – my very first word; I wasn’t sure how to begin blog entry numero uno, so I pulled a fancy word out of the mental filing cabinet to get the ball rolling.…
