Title:
Echoes in the long and constant. Bitterness toward me but I don't move. My soft refusals are all blades and glitter. Fuck the stucco. Fuck dying here. Fuck assets elsewhere. Can fantasy flash into being? There has to be a better formula.
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 10 and 10:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.