tight space,
loose towel.
my place,
night owl.
clustered shelves,
help yourself.
slippery floor,
i love you more.
oh nick,
come press,
your lips to my chest.
YOU ARE READING
a lil' bit of this, a lil' bit of that
PoetryI didn't choose to be here, on this earth. i am forced to wake up everyday and write these shit poems. since i'm already trapped here i guess i'll make a few memories. maybe go for a jog... who am i kidding. i'll stay home and continue writing about...
