I strive off of spontaneity
I love art.
and those desolate, abandoned places that lie in new york.
I'm an awkward conversationist.
I'm inspired by the world of science.
Monotony clings to your vocal cords like
Morning dew’s surface tension gripping a leaf’s tip.
The stale scent of sleepy breath soaks your speech in
A sweetness, an aftertaste of falsity
Curling your words like foliage’s abrupt transition into decay.
Sun steeps you, keeps you fragrant.
Blades of grass sleep beneath your feet,
Flossing you with uncertainty. Magnetized by emotional currency.
Mimicry sends you the remnants of my mechanical waste, robotic beats.
Hard-wired contractions are the misconceptions of our satisfaction.@1 month ago with 1 note