I feel like dying.
I can’t stand people.
I need to destroy
something beautiful.

I don’t really want to explain what I mean.

Take it abstractly,
like a poem.

Take life abstractly,
like a poem.

Stray between the lines,
dig deeper
than you would if
it were a narrative piece.

I find myself in a novel.

Things are more straight forward if
I tell you exactly
what to see
to hear
to feel.

It was a cold and windy day at the beach.

I think we all need
life a bit mixed up.

The wind had cold teeth
rain still soft in my hair had
the ocean desperately handing me shells.

Cover it in poetry,
decorate with words.

Open your ****** eyes,
don’t be fooled by what
the narrator hands you.

There isn’t one author to your existence.