I have high expectations for poetry to spark some light, to wake me up enough so I can sleep at night.
we all die, but could words help you to love yourself to death?
the splash down seems accidental not some hidden purpose revealed. when the duck appeared from nowhere in this landlocked shallow stream
the wind blows one way, so they went the other
widthy not lengthy life goals are surely more plausible.
the feels you find in my writing are there purposely.