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I drink until death,
until ink bleeds emptiness;
thirsty little pen.
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(June 19th, 2024.)
"But this passion for letters is senseless. Isn't one letter enough, isn't one knowing enough? Of course it is, but nevertheless I am tilting my head way back, drinking the letters, aware only that I don't want to stop drinking."
- Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection.
PoetryEvery poem that I have ever written in my designated poetry journal since the day I was eleven years old. Read at your own risk. 😎
