

MannersWith a phantom palm, he sets his grip upon the handle, Weathered eyes smiling through the tint. Her teeth shine through the reflection of his coat, Clotting the empty space above his breast-pocket.Manners
And smoothly, the door swings open, his arm already outstretched- She catches with a tentative grip beneath cufflinks, followed by Twin click-clacks that cut into the fresh asphalt.
In his wise wrinkles, vines across a façade, he laughs A soft bellow, while his thumbjoint traces a shell Over the back of her hand.
&nb


SlowSlow feelings reverberate, and gleam like the sheen on a half-moon face. Illiterate hand tucks beneath her chin, and the softside thumb brushes tender curves above slender jaw.Slow
Five black eyes look up sadly, and tilt to the left this time.
Breath upon breath, hand crooked in hair. Small, fragile, bittersweet. She sighs, her chest swells, and with strained neck, tastes to tell you, that here, beneath solemn branches, she feels happiest.
But something that should be slow, goes, and spins ahead to reminiscent wake ups,  
Spacecraft9

26th OctoberToday the volume of the universe is turned down to negative numerals, as sound waves, light waves, brain waves Suffocate beneath blankets of cigarette butts, huddled on the unfriendly metal legs of tracks leading to26th October
Nowhere.
We are running and running and the black bags beneath my eyes are expanding like time-lapse film.
The gypsy woman with the cracked face, and lips (sinking into quicksands of flesh), is just rattling bones, rattling plastic cup, wishing desperately to be lifted off her feet by the twenty-two balloons

| I'm Rupe. Much Love. |
Finished it. Submitted it.
All that jazz.
Comment it, you.
--
#Writers-Workshop | *project-improve | *LITplease | *Lit-Twitter | =DeviantArtSecret
thanks for the fave.
--
i hope you see me smile.
---
[link]
--
Then I went down into the basement where my friend, the maniac, busies himself with his electronic graffiti.
Finally his language touches me, because he talks to that part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. -West Rider Silver Bullet.
I got a stupid face thing book. Gross.
Saddest part. I was made to get it for a stupid class.
Fucking hell.
--
#Writers-Workshop | *project-improve | *LITplease | *Lit-Twitter | =DeviantArtSecret
Though, it's probably my fave type of book
--
Then I went down into the basement where my friend, the maniac, busies himself with his electronic graffiti.
Finally his language touches me, because he talks to that part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. -West Rider Silver Bullet.
It's soo confusing. And weird.
--
#Writers-Workshop | *project-improve | *LITplease | *Lit-Twitter | =DeviantArtSecret
--
Then I went down into the basement where my friend, the maniac, busies himself with his electronic graffiti.
Finally his language touches me, because he talks to that part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. -West Rider Silver Bullet.
--
#Writers-Workshop | *project-improve | *LITplease | *Lit-Twitter | =DeviantArtSecret
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