i'm just not inspired to write anymore.
was writing my disease? or my cure?

when i think of you i
think of windlashed hair.
the parisian smog is
making a romance
of the dangerousdark.

twodollarcoffee
& a burnt tongue.

shiver & ache
shiver & ache
...
i'm waiting to
meet you
at last.
at last.

i want
the world to
fall asleep.