Photog by Peter Vidani
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Head

I think about you more than you think.

Window

As I sit inside myself
I check for scars
Evidence of
My past and future

Scattered stars

Trying to pick up the pieces
Of me and myself

J krishnamurti

We have no passion; we have lust, we have pleasure

More private

No more talks
Setting my lips on fire

More private

No more poetry.
All emo all heartbreak

The singer

I like singing to you