How boastful it is
for a flower to bloom
next to a
**** -- blades of grass sit in audience.
Fresh ink dries on single page, slammed between hundreds that lay bare.
The pride of a flower to know that the ink exists on its behalf.
Do I not write of weeds? Are the words as gluttonous as the flower that grows in spite of its environment?
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 12:38 PM UTC
How boastful it is
for a flower to bloom
next to a
**** -- blades of grass sit in audience.
Fresh ink dries on single page, slammed between hundreds that lay bare.
The pride of a flower to know that the ink exists on its behalf.
Do I not write of weeds? Are the words as gluttonous as the flower that grows in spite of its environment?
