i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that’s a poem already what’s the point
you get it. you get the themes. i dont have time to do it justice. just look at it its on the ceiling
ALT
these exchanges and this fiddling about for the collective to appreciate in passing is, to me, true artistic spirit. I don’t know what the past was truly like to live, but in my heart i know that humans have always been… like this
ALT
