these days..

when I have just become comfortable in my space. The characters in my head started to take form. Each for someone I have known. Wonder if they would recognize. So I killed the Blackwidow. Her offspring is such an amusement taking on what she had left. Her failure is not of death but her..

I’m seriously going to drag myself out. This wanting for isolation is a cycle.. what comes next is an addiction.. and then byproduct story..

First time I have put out some random mumblings..Beyond composure, my complicated mind is in battle with oneself..

 

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the Blackwidow is a living collage in the making

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