sense or ship

you would hide right here as your sole hobby, trusting me, never honoring the frivolous. you would rest underneath my crook of my arm where you found it a bit sweet even against all of that sour. our two formed pieces of flesh would merge into one and synergy would come in the form of energy and for a moment i would feel that we could be god. but only if we were an i.

i used to write to prisoners regularly as one of my sole hobbies. they would begin to trust me. i let them hide in the verbiage and not worry about the darkness. their cold narratives rested inside of me and i found a bit of sweetness even against all of the sour. two separate realities merged into one understanding through the letters and synergy came in the form of energy and for a moment the pages felt like they could be a bible. but only if they were a book.

people used to burn books. people still burn books. people will burn all of the books.

these days, they claim they just like to “kindle fire.”

i'd be thrilled to hear your true, uncensored thoughts. i'd also love to read your writing.