Apr 2012
I forget what bacon tastes like already
My shoes have been tied for over a year now
The wallet in my pocket came from a puddle of rain
The microphone hanging to my right
cost me one hundred and twenty five dollars
so I could fill my bedroom’s remaining
empty space
My shoes have been tied for over a year now
The wallet in my pocket came from a puddle of rain
The microphone hanging to my right
cost me one hundred and twenty five dollars
so I could fill my bedroom’s remaining
empty space
Poetry as journaling, journaling as poetry.
