Jul 27, 2015
you write of the ethereal unreal, subreal, you write of god and maidens. i shrink at the thought that perhaps you'd be embarrassed of me.
i write of crass love and allusions to riots steadily filling up hearts, streets, respectively. i don't bother with assimilationist rhetoric or hegemonic assumptions of how one should be. i'm not embarrassed of most things except maybe the pre-noon beers i ingest, an excuse to keep feeling dulled just enough to invoke other feeling just as uncomfortable.
