I've been driving this skin vehicle on auto pilot for years upon years without even know it.
It took a weekend of never meeting in physicality, but in utter beauty to realize it.
My souls been marching it's own beat and I'm too lost in words of my own head to see it.
Works in progress perhaps, visions in nature's crystal ball couldn't of predicted that i would long for a human life instead of the dream. I want simple.
Simply cause i want you.
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PuisiSad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
