And I am deeply flawed, run in trenches, deepened by pacing, burrowed by the wild animal of longing, day and night, to day again. And flowers grow, sometimes in spite of the fallow-looking soil. Seedlings of displaced affections and all manner of disregard to just enjoy. If I can... what else? Nothing. Sleep now. Think, later. - Post by liarsk on Boldomatic

This is a scheduled post planned to be published at 1417449600000 at 1417449600000

And I am deeply flawed, run in trenches, deepened by pacing, burrowed by the wild animal of longing, day and night, to day again. And flowers grow, sometimes in spite of the fallow-looking soil. Seedlings of displaced affections and all manner of disregard to just enjoy. If I can... what else? Nothing.
Sleep now. Think, later.

And I am deeply flawed, run in trenches, deepened by pacing, burrowed by the wild animal of longing, day and night, to day again. And flowers grow, sometimes in spite of the fallow-looking soil. Seedlings of displaced affections and all manner of disregard to just enjoy. If I can... what else? Nothing. Sleep now. Think, later.

Reposted from anonymous

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