I wake on the floor, sand dusted over my skin. Up. I filter the blue, propelling forward. Hunger isn't a thought I have, or a feeling. Those cannot be had without a brain. Anything I am is only an intrinsic part of my being. I breathe not through lungs, or gills, through my skin. Wading through, with no progress or goal. Survival is peaceful without a brain. I have the unique gift of being dead long before I am gone.
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A Collection For Those Who Enjoy Poetry
PoetryThis is just a book of poetry. Some people really like just reading poems, and that's what this is. Some are by me, but some are just my favorite poems from other authors. All of whom I will credit in the separate chapters. If you're into that kind...
