so what
if I'm a poet and you
spit out lies like cobwebs.
so what
if I worship words and you
manipulate them to the point of misuse.
so what
if the thing I believed to be the world
turned out to be smaller than a butterfly's heartbeat.
none of this is real.
even in my mind now.
🎉
This ones dedicated to Oliver [cipherly ] for being my no.1 reader and no.1 supporter since day 1. For being the absolute sweetest and sticking with this book since it was on my deleted account. Thank you so much for being so nice.
🎉
YOU ARE READING
Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
