➹➹➹➹➹ leaves a miniature wall.
For every ➹ I get, I'll put up my muse's current thought.
> Augh, fuck. Fuck. She's coming this way. Where can I— it's not weird to stand behind a slate of wood, that's not weird. That's not weird. I do this all the time. She's staring at me again. > How does her hair float like that? I don't think that's in the code of physics. She defies gravity. She's perfect. I wonder if it's weird to ask someone to touch their hai- > It's definitely weird to ask someone to touch their hair. > Her eyes are like soulless balls of… > Balls of… who the fuck starts a line of poetry with the phrase "balls of"?? Fuck this. I'm ripping this up. With my blade, this time. Can't risk someone reading this garbage. Balls of… why am I still trying to complete that. BALLS OF WHAT, KIRSCHTEIN. TELL HER HER EYES ARE FUCKIN' TESTICLES WHILE YOU'RE AT IT.








