POEM A DAY 2024
Thursday, January 11, 2024
lil bit
What was anticipation before fear? Was there? Did I look forward? Did I always enjoy an inherited mental gift of mild disaster? Will future fun ruin real now forever? Catastrophically closer to my father’s neural networks thus grow I
1 comment:
Smokehouse
January 14, 2024 at 8:02 PM
too real!
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too real!
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