Sometimes for short periods of space i feel like im not giving up that much as usual.
this will not be poetry, has never been, but it seems easier for me in life spans to explain myself in a language that does not belong to me bc i dont belong to myself anymore.
it feels like when the wind goes right thru me, right into my spiral shape ear round and round towards a tiny universe inside my head where nobody knows me, they speak words of wisdom and faith and love.
In the obituary behind my eyes u can read that i died in search for a sun that would not fuse me.
