I talk to myself at night

So. This is kind of scary.

I'm doing something new. A new kind of poetry. One that is happier - sometimes. One that is longer. One that makes less sense unless you're me. If you're me, then it makes more sense than most things.

These are strings of fleeting impressions and close-up polaroid pictures of a life. Sometimes it's mine.

[If you've read some of the newest stuff(70%-72%) in my collection called tbh you'll have seen some of these already. I'm moving them because they don't fit in there. I'm moving them because I don't fit in here, not anymore]

#207 Poetry #636 Random