poetry is displeasure. i have not written in months. i drove through a desert on my way back to california. those two aren't inherently related, but i think it speaks volumes on how to set the scene. you can imagine a graveyard in so many different ways; like college parties, or something vampiric, or the day of my 21st birthday. i'm not dead yet, but my eyesight is progressively getting worse. it's called getting older! or, more realistically, it's the realization that i need to settle down before i never have the chance to again.
In a shadow there is the blessing of a shadow. — Kuki Shūzō
