a chain of incomplete
inconsistencies...
the faucet
drools non-stop...
IF
!Confusion...
It was a song—
that reminded me...
If I have come in dress thou hast garmented for...
I would have found thy garment, not thee...
I am the poet of the true reality—
not the shared dream, communal illusion...
A writer not only writes what the writer feels but the writer can also feel what the writer writes |
Being in love is like playing with fire you always get burned |
Must keep my eyes open, can't fall asleep yet, I'm widely wake, but for how long? |