Urban Morning
I can’t breathe.
The sun’s just rising,
The sky is singing,
blushing, swooning, glowing.
I can’t look anymore.
Clouds are spilled across the sky,
My heart is erratic,
It sputters out of sync,
I’m finally alive.
Art + Design + Other Aesthetically Pleasing Things
There’s that perpetual orb again,
who would be employee of the month
every month
for the unimaginable consistency offered to the world.
I wish I was that reliable.
THIS, is perf. ok l o ve
Similar to how a hot plate slowly warms
the sun rose.
And like the flight of a flapjack
the night warmed to day.
adasasg give me another go