Friday
I write about escape fairly often, but I have begun to
wonder what that actually means. And I have
begun to wonder if that's even what I want
anymore. But, if I don't crave escape,
what am I craving? There is a hole
in my chest and if escape won't
fill it, I'm afraid I don't
know what will.
(I think I'm lost in existential waters again.)
YOU ARE READING
Post Meridiem
PoetryI'd do anything to save myself. Hell, I'd even change the world.
