you're a selfish pig.
if we are but animals
i'm the stoic crane

the sleeping sickness
it keeps you up until three
while your mind races

oh god... so alone...
when there's nothing to live for
what do you do then?

your life is music:
a piece of art, shown through time.
experience it.

the strife in your life,
there's a time and place for it
in my life: haiku

he would love to clean
until his world fell apart.
then, he loved to love

all curled up. check.
warm blankets and cider. check.
his hand in yours. check.

like children we live—
born to tell the world our thoughts
our ears keep us sane