I, myself, crumpled on my desk
amongst strokes ambiguously
strewn across the inky darkness
(finding parchment)
thoughts never
make it to impulse
I seek to write
yet I find
I am a character being read
by the faceless observer.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
I, myself, crumpled on my desk
amongst strokes ambiguously
strewn across the inky darkness
(finding parchment)
thoughts never
make it to impulse
I seek to write
yet I find
I am a character being read
by the faceless observer.