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
