Floating in a sea of confusion, going somewhere, going nowhere. Floating on a makeshift raft with shades over my eyes, arching with the curve of the globe, while plate tectonics slide. Underneath this heavy crust, to my surprise, is just foam.
Like a spore in a barren land you thrived like wildfire, and I’m left with the green grass of you, you, and you.
If I was sitting out here on the streets in the dark, skin and bones and an ugly face with scars, yellowish sad eyes with tears, matted hair and an attitude all gone, left with no personality, humor, nor intrigue no wit to recite nor inputs to share. If I wasn’t the personification of meContinue reading “Remained filaments of me”