poetry

I’m envious of cats. Their simple life. Their ability to sleep and sunbathe all day…

I forget the sweet taste of clementines until my lips are wet with their juice…

It’s the trees that make me cry more than anything…

This evening there was a road crew in the streets of the colonial town…

She worships nihilism and thinks it makes her unique…

I only wake up scared–delirious and delusional–when my fangs are not bared and able to reflect the moon…