Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2021
The biggest mystery for me is why I'm thinking what I'm thinking and also, what exactly am I thinking.

And so, no surrealism can make up for this vague emptiness of my Sundays.

Well, be yourself, if there is such a thing.
Written by
Kafka Joint
233
       White Widow, izzn, ---, Aishu, --- and 12 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems