Mar 25, 2017
You are an unnamed branch of Nature. I run my hands along your bumps and your details, I am infatuated with an untamed phenomenon. Your looks of anguish appear through concealed truth, what is there to hide that I won't be willing to accept? What is misery if not the doorstep of your home, let me in, I wish to prove your error. I see you as a hopeful beginning yet you regard yourself as an ending without start. The darkness is self-produced, you are only what you deem yourself to be and although you've sketched yourself mountains, there are crevices going uphill, you are sinking yourself in between untouched emptiness.
10:41 p.m.
t.v.
