Do I procrastinate? My lips, they feel raw, old, abused by their wearer. I vowed to leave this desert, where water is acidic. Glass shard towers wore away. I’m only another molecule of sand.
Urban and narative poetry, vbog, personal journal
Do I procrastinate? My lips, they feel raw, old, abused by their wearer. I vowed to leave this desert, where water is acidic. Glass shard towers wore away. I’m only another molecule of sand.