Time
Healing wounds through obliteration. The erosion of every living thing. Document and memorialize, the void is gaping thee.
Time
Category: poem
Through the Pane
Through the Pane
I don’t like to plan, so much to do. Grand aspirations only seem to disappoint. The tedious artistic attitude, dissatisfied with work. I appreciate the positives regardless of the height. Nothing competes with the feeling of creation. Something new and alive, glimpsed through the pane.
