got too many reals, i just want to feel
too many outfits for the places i go
gold like an arrow to praise the nights
coming through the green-yellow days
dauntless and swift
want to flex like a child—
here comes the trail
and the feels that feel real
sit out in a tank top
for the inner freedom til the sun
spears the ocean and the moon rises
this blasting heat is the way April
wants to leave us
ok last poem wasn’t a real one, it was a rant about a friend and that’s not cool so i deleted it. it’s dead now