Too many empty words never filling up,
only surrounding the perimeter of a glamorous room
leaving too much space where my deep thoughts consumes
feelings of rage, disengage
i can’t explain to you how this is a familiar place
beautiful and misunderstood
i dont give a fuck who you are,
or who i am to you
because all those words we exchange,
just end up in that empty room

There is a woman out there believing in the intentionality of landscapes
Waiting for the maestros in the dirt to play their tunes.
You’ve never been truly at peace, she thinks,
Until you’ve let the crickets comfort you.
In the syrupy light pouring through the window on the…