Words are just lies we use
to play at the truth,
crude facsimiles of real things
like sex and fistfights,
sunshine moonshine and hopes,
and the nightmares that, like
good sex and fistfights and
sunshine moonshine and hopes,
leave you collapsed on your back,
chest heaving, forehead slicked with sweat.
About Me
- a(scetic)verse
- Nineteen years of age, native of southwest Florida, student at an alternative liberal arts honors college.
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