Unfinished notes, Unheeded lessons, Distracted mind, Stolen glances, Fantasies in the day, Dreams at night, Chasing a lost cause, Lovelorn. Two years later, I’m still only two benches away from you, Yet you are a thousand miles away.
I love art, reality engraved. I love who creates, point-blank like a gun, pressed against the temple of an overachiever. I seek the masses to watch my brain rain over your brilliant minds. Overwhelming and bloated, I feast on your works of art.