i'm a poet, i get hurt from car beeps and cut wrists.. I suffer from the unknown and I don't believe in anything....well, few hours back, I believed in love to heal my sorrowful numb heart, but now I confide In blue walls and Frank Ocean's Futura free. fuck it, i'm so unsettled with these thoughts, plots and plans. Nirvana's last night was my today's afternoon..
Reluctantly pulling me to my apostrophes, apologies applause the placement of flowers on my coffin with confidence.
Simulation and gravity is now broken.
Still pacing through the vacuums of space and time
and days when I saw sound, mental shift depicts sobriety eons away from our constant crumbling galaxy
so for now? it's mind over matter, what's below, so it is above.
YOU ARE READING
CONSTELLATIONS AWAY FROM REALITY
PoesiaA self-entitled declaration of unwanted feelings in monochromic sarcasm and jotted down ink.
