Jen Juice

Nothing worse than falling for the same smoke and mirrors that continuously inhabit your space….the endurance of the worst beckons my calling.
What to have and what not to hold. I find it a daunting rhetoric of solution.
Fucking want to murder my emotions with a jackknife and feed
It to the spirits that gag me with them.

This entry was posted on November 23, 2015 at 9:42 PM and is filed under Jencerpts.. with tags Death, enigma, I miss him, introspection, my fault, Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.