Friday is a Riot Waiting to Happen
⋆. ˚✮ Primal ✮˚.⋆ Out of the wilderness, without a thought behind them, words are feral. They lunge without warning and sink their fangs into the minds of their prey and lock their jaws for a long time, sometimes rabid, but the mind doesn’t know, there’s an incubation period, the mouth foams, and it’s too late. I’m convinced that words have the power to shape people. When the synapses of the…











