lunes, 27 de diciembre de 2021

Benedict.

I wish I wrote the way I thought

I wish I wrote the way I thought
Obsessively
Incessantly
With maddening hunger
I'd write to the point of suffocation
I'd write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I'd write about you
A lot more
Than I should

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Karen.

The world is both burning and blooming You get the bad news  and the sunrise in the same day. You cry over the headlines,  then you laugh at...