about the creator

I’m the one who sits at a typewriter and bleeds. I’m the one who lets the dreams from my head drip from my fingertips. I’m the one who hollows out my heart and spills it into words and sentences and paragraphs until it’s dripping and empty. I’m the one who has stormy oceans of stories and lines in my lungs, harboring little fish that eat up fantasies and dreams. I’m the one whose pen is a fishing rod. I’m the one who heals in the library. I’m the one who drowns in dried ink until being ripped back to reality is cold and biting. I’m the one who finds freedom in words that cage me. I’m the one who lives a million lives through turning a bound paper. I’m the one who dreams consciously. I’m the one who talks with pen and not a tounge. I’m the one who has graphite smudged on the side of my hand, weary eyes and crinkled paper balls flooding the floor. I’m the one who’s penicling down stray ideas and thoughts when the moon glints off the glass of the window. I’m the one who walks away from a typewriter with dark red ink staining my fingertip

hayden suuucks