When I asked where we were going, Mr. Prent replied, "Let's get out of this town; drive out of the city, just... get away from these crowds of students and teachers..." And witnesses. "I like the sound of that." So we went on a long drive. No destination in sight. Maybe Mr. Prent got the … Continue reading Wildest Dreams- Drive
Dark clouds in my head Rain cascades over my ribs Salty and acidic Eroding my bones I am broken Haunted And so far gone lost. I thought this would be a good poem for Wildest Dreams. A little side project I am working on. Read part of it here, a picture-it & write inspiration!
Dear Journal, It was midnight. I was up like usual, writing that poem on the left page. It was a Saturday, so I knew I wouldn't hear from him. Weekends are the hardest. They linger like an unpleasant odor. Soured like rotten milk. And my guts feel like twisted steel. Most Saturdays I spend biting … Continue reading Wildest Dreams: Midnight