How I (Don’t) Write
I think in Austen; but I end up at Wilde; You see, Bukowski had it wrong
Weird Generation
They say we’re a weird generation
Unbothered and reckless
As naive as we are helpless //
/waiting for you in the afterlife/
Whispers in the hallway
Of a love lost in the dusk
Garden glass
‘wish I was more poetry than words
more art than love //
Unmute
I’m a mind speaker, are you?