
this poem is a waste of time

im going to paris this weekend
im going out tonight

girl half your age
half your size
huge eyes

Mailboxed letter filled with old people dust
on the bed
in the middle of you

an arboretum that smells like time
leather landfill hidden inside
you’re prettier than me

we get old
we get ugly
we die

walk between worlds easy to explore

well that's just great.
that's a damn shame.
artwork taken from Bec Parsons and Lazareva Valeria via UNSIGNED WORKS
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