A piece of cardboard rolling up into a functional and structural form.
Brown leaves combusting grey shades of smoke, a form of language I have spoken before.
So this is how I'm introducing myself to today's conversation.
Oh and I'm thinking about them.
I just keep talking about them.
When I talk about them I am home.
Can barely write my hands are aftershocks of the long night before.
So many things I could say but getting cheesy just fucks with the flow.
It's getting harder no words my head can pour.
Then I remember my plans for the night that I bet I'll enjoy!
Oh and I'm thinking about them.
I just keep talking about them.
When I sing about them I am home.
