Empty writer
Possessed by the fiction
Hiding from life
Too afraid of the friction
Don’t want to fall in love
It’s a suicide mission
But loving myself
Is a lonely addiction
One world
On which we set our feet
But we manufacture worlds
To complete the incomplete
Dreams within a dream
On a binge or on repeat
A universal wanderer
That doesn’t leave their seat
Professional dreamers
Monetary schemers
A cynic symbiosis
Cyanide for sleeping lemurs
I don’t expect the grass
To be greener on the other side
We get what we can get
And we ride where we can ride
A Life in Poems 