Thoughtful kisses,
invented by thoughtless visions.
Midnight lunacies,
that always end in repetitive marriages.
When will it all become clear?
Clarity seems like a rarity lately.
Memories that get lost in translations.
I guess time holds the real power,
meanwhile, I continue to live up in this tower.
Alone and ashamed of these fantasies,
conjured up by naive tendencies.
At twenty-four,
I still continue to sit here drunk and alone.
Wondering when this tower of my own making will truly become nothing more.
YOU ARE READING
The Journal
RandomLetters from a boy who felt at one point or another alone. Who wrote as a way to find a new voice. These are things he wished he could've said. Things he should've claimed. And now will be saying. These are words that come from a place of hurt and...
