i hugged the rocks while they looked into the ocean's eye to recover a lost chain of thought. birds flock with damaged wings, mouths with pebbles which they'll
make funeral grounds with.

a key to destiny, shut up and be still so that death
and sadness
will not see you hide among the fir trees. there is unstability sitting like a time bomb in my veins waiting for me to stumble into a raging tide and fate can have
what is left of me

sometimes, i hate this way of thinking. my mind tumbles with words and sentences that don't make sense to me but i still waste my time writing them thinking they might be
worth it
for someone else's sake

but i don't find flowers sitting outside my door as i shuffle in irritation at the thought of leaving for school without finding the world beautiful
and in school the numbers and bank cheques must sound beautiful to them but i'm not friendly with them and the strange effects they bring out on

and when i grow up, i'd like to have a tiny house outside an
orphanage with the ocean in view, and i'll own
a flock of stationary with which i will consume the
white walls.