wowowowow, painting with Death!

Victor led Joe over to a quieter edge of the Nexus and handed him a canvas and a brush. "Any pictures in your head?"

(no subject)

I really shouldn't be running around this much after donating blood. But I can't help it! I can't stay still. No bruising. I get out of breath easier and I'm so aware of my heart. But I don't get dizzy much anymore.

The Deaths who I've met in the Nexus have all been kind and beautiful. Perhaps some poets at my school were correct.

I've figured out that love is pretending not to be scared of the dark so I can lead Joey downstairs late at night and flip the switch.

Another sad poem that I might not have up for very long, due to insecurity:
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