Being Lost While Found

"Roll with the punches, as life's boxing partner I can confirm that the amount of knockouts you can take before getting back up again gets less each time." -Quill 

"The bruises in my blood become my ink, stories from wrinkles and highways that I didn't travel myself. I saw the road signs but I forgot to count the exits and now I am running low on gas far out of town, high up in the mountains, to take the car off the cliff might be the fastest way to go home." -Quill  

"Diminish myself to the point of nothing. A bottomless pit swallowing all light and sound, even being in a vacuum is too loud compared to my mind. Compressing every emotion until it's needle thin, razoring tongue in lashes until the blood drips into my lungs. Swallowing myself until I clot and fold and crease; a paper crane left on the edge of a empty bed. A prayer left unanswered." -Quill 

“Pale tranquil stones to skip across the rapids, swallowing the tender grey whole, and spitting river onto my boots. Showing one has a hole and the other, two. The silty water sinking into my boots; dragging me down with the current" -Quill 

  "A pit of ember growing cold on the surface as the inside burns. Tears smolder, ash in my eyes. I shouldn't stare into a dying fire. But if I don't how else will I be able to explain how I feel?" -Quill