"parasthesia" poems
It is not a mirage. This;
it is vital they share the same blue
veins under their pale veil. But they breathe different
airs. To live, is to learn how
to rejoice with paresthesia
causing liquor down your throat
and be in the stupor without feeling
stupid.
Stupors feel better
lucid
and this, this all feels better in sleep.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC