There are no simple words.
Is there simple love, shy love?
Is there narcissism?
Is there weakness in my forearms, shaking, thunder?
Brilliance, decisions, suffering.
There are no simple words.
Is there simple love, shy love?
Is there narcissism?
Is there weakness in my forearms, shaking, thunder?
Brilliance, decisions, suffering.
Metta? I don’t think so
Though Chikeola threw it in
this morning—
This latté is like
a cup of milk
nothing to it