Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
For everything, down to the scribbles.
Never stop writing bro "It was echoing through my house like rats in the walls, thin fingers scratching on the old wood and plaster, just to get to me. I pushed my ear against my mother harder, drowning out the noise with the sound of her heart, her gurgling stomach, her breathing. Was it her breathing? Or it’s?"

Fed To Life