its weird where i see poetry these days. like…theres a better way to say it than that. but im always shocked to see poetry in a bucket of bone colored paint or in a mess around a dumpster or in the dryer lint. i see it in your avoidance and in the jokes i’ve learned to make. i see it in scuffed boots and missing keys on a keyboard. i still see it in celestial beings. i still see it in the face of everyone i talk to. but now i see it everywhere and its almost overwhelming but at the same time i’m glad. because even the ********* things can be okay if you look at them right.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
its weird where i see poetry these days. like…theres a better way to say it than that. but im always shocked to see poetry in a bucket of bone colored paint or in a mess around a dumpster or in the dryer lint. i see it in your avoidance and in the jokes i’ve learned to make. i see it in scuffed boots and missing keys on a keyboard. i still see it in celestial beings. i still see it in the face of everyone i talk to. but now i see it everywhere and its almost overwhelming but at the same time i’m glad. because even the ********* things can be okay if you look at them right.
