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existential crisis (Remove filter)

fingers on the paper (here, a long poem will die)

i got you wrong just like a half-existing woman, you scared the evening, istanbul was ratting that time (whatever it is) "so wittgenstein said..." you had fingers. they're tiny cigarettes. ...

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Who Am I?

A storm trapped in a rain drop

Hurricane wrapped in a wave

Hundred mile winds twisting within a breeze

Devastating quakes in every stone

Dirt speckled snow blanketed over bones

A forest of memories behind a cosmic window

Ash curls out into nebulous tendrils of purple and blue

A ghost of an echo

No longer able to self recognize

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