you blew through me like bullet holes
This city doesn’t tell you about it’s tunnels. It isn’t fucking New York and it isn’t Paris and it doesn’t advertise. The city doesn’t talk about it and it doesn’t want to talk about it, but the…
I Would Be The Last To Let You Know
I’ve been thinking a lot today about the giving of thanks, and how simple that concept seems to be for some.
You are a riot in the quiet city of my soul. I built for myself this place where no one else visits, and no one is welcomed, a space large enough to contain, only, ever, one — the one of me that I have worked so hard to become.