Open it up, youll see me wide open in front of you. Im grotesque with the odours of the vile. But im wild and I set myself up for failure. How else have I learnt?
Theres nothing more bizarre than my empty mind. My thoughts are the degils advocate. Let me break. All this fake-ass glue is worth nothing.
Do you see the gentle curves I make with my hands? Theyre arent gentle at all my fingers have no grace they fail me time and time again, why shouldnt I punish them?
How else are they to learn how else am i to learn? The grace I force myself to acquire; the one I believe will make me worth something but its a façade for things I know better about.
I know better. I know better. I should know better but its rare that I should do better.
Jovial trivialities.
YOU ARE READING
My Boring Escapades.
Poetry"Breaking free from the thoughts of others." Not alot makes sense in this book. Its not supposed too. They most definitely might be terrible, its just my way of keeping track of things I write no matter how terrible. These are unedited, theyre only...
