i lay on drunken plains of dust and non-existance. with knowlege that this universe once did not exist and at an unknown time that all changed. i am but a bunch of atmos which somehow magnificantly combined in this exact way to create a living conscious that once was nothing, those same atoms in other galaxy lack the mindblowing coincidence of timing needed to be anything. all i am is floating attoms. the cosmos made conscious
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broken pieces
Poetrya book of poems // individual shards of glass that attempt to piece together my broken soul // TRIGGER WARNING : will probably mention suicide, self-harm, sexual assult, rape, etc. // not all are personal experiences but some are
