Reality strikes like a gong
stories foretold and whispers take turns
such a wild-fire unrestrained
spreading in empty cases
across the unheard sounds
within the pressure of their minds
Sometimes, time just makes it right
and the sound of the rain
slowly sweeps the prejudiced remarks
as their gestures are suffocated
in the remnants of their insinuations
across my inhabited alacrity
In the whispers of my dreams
I felt their creeping shadows
those words filled with judgement
apprehended inside unreformed reasons
across the many eyes that I see
logged with unmovable and manic chaos
I have no time to judge or change anyone. Take off your own logs first....***
So went to a party with a onesie and slept under a table.... What’s your problem? I am not into Gucci