here you will find a collection of poems, journal entries and personal ramlings.
I remember in those first few weeks
Where we talked about Breaking Bad and made jokes about crystal meth
And I remember thinking that I wanted to have a taste
Of you, however pure
And you'd open your heart and let me crawl inside
Not caring if my fire would melt it like soft sorbet
"Everything I criticise, I end up becoming." — S.P.