These things take a while
Like wounds to scabs waiting to subside
These things take a while
Like wounds to scabs waiting to subside
underestimated getting over it
is a thought always unearthed
By this feeling hounding me
Crisis is calm Against the mob of one Cassandra facing the truth While the world’s conveniently turned
She said her weather’s bipolar
I invited her to my home
Visited by full on
Tropical Depression
As a constructAs your mind fills in the gapsBetween what makes senseOr which of our replicable actions Are acceptable as consistentNone of which is correctAn argument lacking depthThoughts as intenseAs they are denseDying soon after […]
The possibility When chaos as undertow Against all the convenience That this serene, smooth surface seems And about to break