this is the backwards story of how i [lost my mind] fell in love. lowercase intended. #83 in poetry | #150 in short story | 14-11-14

the scrape of a prism on us; you're the paintbrush and i am your canvas and together we draw so many convoluted lines on our lives.

Let me be vital. / I want to burn myself out. #39 Poetry - 11/6/16.

ǝuou uǝǝq sʎɐʍlɐ sɐɥ ǝɹǝɥʇ ʍouʞ ᴉ ǝɹǝɥʍ ʇɥƃᴉl ǝɯos puᴉɟ oʇ ʎɹʇ ᴉ

a series of love poems to people, to myself, and to the world.

«her name was insomnia, and she was the greatest metaphor a poet has ever written.»

absurd poetry written by a cactus.

❝ Our love bloomed like a rose and died like a wildflower. ❞ - 🦋 #1 in poetry on 16/01/19 🦋 🌕Completed *None of the images included are mine*