/lit/ - Literature

I am a volley ball being chaotically batted backhand fourth. I am being ignited and inhaled. I am being teased and taken. I suppose the very thrill of a thing is how utterly terrifying it is. I am not playing this game by choice. But my dreams betray myself, folly to expect them to remain faithful to anyone else.

He is going to come and pick my battery very soon. Then all this flying flurry will deflate into an empty whiff