These two pages kinda go together, so the transcription for both is at the bottom.
I
don’t
like
your
definition
of
beauty.
We become powerful when we realize we have always been powerful.
It’s a hot night in a strange place I call home.
nightsounds
kitten feet
August skin
I’ve decided to give myself over to it.
I can’t edit here.
That isn’t how it works.
Just feel your way through.
Keep breathing.
Oh my god, keep breathing.
This poem is about sadness and fear and stuff, okay?
I don’t want
to deal with
reality.
Now + then, I glance in the mirror and see my mortality. I’m reminded that I am no longer a child playing at life. I feel a sense of urgency about being Alive Right Now. I’m alive “like it’s my job” because it is.
it’s not a typo it’s live poetry
Commentary: Good luck with this one.
