

On Hopehope is speeding down a sunburned motorway, pushing against an open crack of window. like a dog in a sealed glass houseOn Hope
your purest instinct is to live, and there has to be a reason.
to hope is to believe
that the human condition has yet to reach europe.
so you go and you get there with nothing but one euro fifty and the clothes you've been wearing for weeks. you smile.
to hope is to hold someone close because you love them,
yet it's sensibly impossible. and hope is holding on
because you're scared that you won't miss it when it'
--
Ask me about barnacles, you won't regret it. (sometimes, it is what you've got, not just where you stick it.)
--
Ask me about barnacles, you won't regret it. (sometimes, it is what you've got, not just where you stick it.)
--
Ask me about barnacles, you won't regret it. (sometimes, it is what you've got, not just where you stick it.)
it's by the meadows i think, but i have this horrible suspicion that it looks like a really ugly retirement home surrounded by beautiful buildings.
--
Ask me about barnacles, you won't regret it. (sometimes, it is what you've got, not just where you stick it.)
--
Ask me about barnacles, you won't regret it. (sometimes, it is what you've got, not just where you stick it.)
I'm very glad I stumbled upon your work, since I had been wanting to read short stories and poems, but was dissatisfied with everyone else I found on here.
I can't wait to read more of you.
--
"People want to find a "meaning" in everything and everyone. That's the disease of our age, an age that is anything but practical but believes itself to be more practical than any other age."
~Pablo Picasso
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