My mind’s drained, dull, dim from sitting in this half-cirque classroom, listening to this not-so bashful professor drone. Om is a meditative sound. Om. Om. I’m asleep if not for these thoughts. No; dead.
Category Archives: Poetry
anyone who’s been in love knows. you don’t intend for it to happen, it just happens, and you can’t control it, and then it’s gone.
I admit I had issues, I hit you, but still I stayed with you, because I guess I wished you would change, and you wished the same didn’t you? but now it’s here we go again. I let you get … Continue reading