It’s all gone to hell.
Category: reality
meanwhile
I bet you thought it would be different, being human.
just words
Poetry is only a moment.
CLARIFY
I write what I feel, and I let it go.
Wolves
We point at the path of sticky entrails and we blame you.
Rightly So
There is mad, mad joy to be found.
dead me, dead you
This can’t bode well, can it?
