[ october 25th, 2014 ]
i'm sorry i can't be there
way i used to
but see,
they're after me;
it's my head that they want-
cold and listless, lacking my usual
luster
on a shining golden platter
would be best
so that they can marvel at it again
they way they used to,
kinda like the way i marvel
when i look at you
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...
