And mud walks on. We smear our hands to feel. Isn’t it nice to know. He tilts the bottle one more time until empty. When I tell an addict they’ll be OK they say, “I know.” We walk toward death with an even pace. I ask, “Does it bother you much?”
-M. Taggart
mtaggartwriter 
Deep
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Thank you for reading
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you’re welcome
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You seem like a visual writer. Are you? I can almost see what you’ve written come to life in front of my eyes. I feel I can connect with the text on a deeper level if I can see it happening.
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I’m not sure how to answer. Possibly I am. I know this, I sit and I write. I make no rules. I am self taught. Odd Walking Thoughts are my more expressive pieces and you seem to have stumbled into them which makes me happy. So thank you for that.
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