Real women don't love the richest guy in the world they love the guy who can make their world the richest.
~ Jazz Feylynn
My eyes hunger to read more books then time allows me to devour.
I assumed this yoke would encase me as well as any another hobble. Only this one bound the mind.
Butterfly upon my hand, A voice of wonder within my mind, not my own but the butterfly's.
The annihilating strokes slashed across my penned heartfelt words.
A spiritual journey is becoming what one has always meant to be-come and always was. One with God's Spirit.
Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around the twisting tongue.
Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around their twisting tongue. If a tongue twister's tongue could twist, how many twists would the tongue twister's tongue twist while their tongue was a twisting.
Welcome to Book-a-holic Anonymous.Hi, I'm Jazz and I am addicted to the written word. I love the smell of the blackest ink sliding across texture paper. My eyes squint against the loss of time within the pages of story. I don't think there's a cure for my compulsion to lose myself within life and times of those characters bound between the covers.
The ink line drawing flowed the cursive journey,created on paper canvas that brought the story to life.
Tongue and hand tied, I was equally cut off and trapped in my own silent dark tomb.
Teachers' favorite color ink, splashed and dripped down his face a grisly reminder of mistakes bruising his life.
His eyes never blinked or wavered from mine, encompassing me in a field of control.
His eyes, if anything, gleamed even more bright, having found the treasure he sought.
One two, one two, Type a word or two. Arrow left, arrow right, Keep those fingers nice and tight.Keys up, Keys down,Move those digits all around.One two, one two, Type a word or two.
Widening blood puddles spilled from suffocating death wounds.
