Rifle trifle words stained from the birds.
Wings.
A heart to exclaim.
Falsities, Lies, Denies.
Cries For days.
A soulless heart torn from flesh.
A heartless soul laid to rest.
Mind games. Stop.
I won't sort wires
or conspire to follow you through the snow.
About Me
- T.K. Rousseau
- I write, explore randomly around the town I live in, and I often forget what I was doing whilst exploring. I stare at the sky, night and day. I kick rocks when I walk. I sometimes miss the mark, trip and fall. I like water. I like calm music. I like loud and rambunctious music. I want to live by the ocean one day, preferably the Pacific. Not in a town or city, maybe a village, but secluded from humanity but close enough to see and touch it. I want to one day own one pair of shoes and live off of what my writing can bring in. I want simple living but the type of simple that is elaborate. I'm rambling on I suppose.
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