[ 7. 30 ]
pouring myself over many nothings as i hear the same story of amy pouring herself over a lost dream lover, realization drizzles over me like honey or nectar or something but i promise this ain't nothing sweet; i'm nobody special out here, in the grand scheme of things i'm but a cell in an organism, a raindrop in an ocean,a star in a galaxy. you could find ten more of me with a slightly different story, no matter where you are and this kinda makes the flower i supposedly am wilt a little because, like... you ever prided yourself on being an individual then looked around and realized that the people you relate to just fall into the same categories as you and nobody's really an individual? we're all just in different flesh vessels and different sins.
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
