Twoetry 58 | Christian Taylor |
Time grows, people change, this is plain and I’m deranged, fuck what you became, maybe I like being lame to dames as if it pumps my brain with a flame’s cadence, but like I told you this is basic and aimless like a fragrance on a neck not being kissed and instead missed, a regret I could dismiss but misery moods my bliss with the gift of definition so my conviction can stay hidden and hatred written like I’m smitten with the thoughts given, caught in what I taught myself, the same way I make the rest of my wealth..
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