
We Called

I don't write. I create.




We talk about life and how it is better to do something now rather than leave it until later because of YOLO.
But the truth is, you only die once!
You can love and become destroyed all within the same relationship.
A lack of consistency with earnings can push you into a lane riddled with broken glass, and you’ll stop walking because the end result is not worth the pain, especially as there is no guarantee of a better ending than where you currently stand.
Tears are temporary and dangerously futile – I cried over heartbreak, and my heart crumbled even more.
Who am I to ask for more when life suggests I need less until I fade away to nothingness.
Why are you waiting for something to happen for you to progress? Or rather, why don’t you trust that you are more than capable of committing to your goals and surpassing them.
Or maybe you are vanishing into the grey mist of confusion, and before you know it, you’re 84 and taking a leap into life.





At all the rats in the sewers, if it helps you to reflect on how much of a dick you are.
I pretended to be elsewhere.
Really I was here, or rather nearby.
I stared into your main and vied for your attention.
I didn’t sleep until? Well, never.
I relied upon the moment and the stupidity of ‘good advice.’
I floated back down to my senses and made a cup of tea.
I’ve paused for 29 minutes.
Lingering around, thinking.
Plotting.
Narrative!
Our universe advises that I should trust you.
You were sent here to teach me patience.
I’m listening.
At my door in December.
I opened up and coughed on em’
Fucking viruses.
Tell me what’s up?
Tell me what you want from me?
Tell me how happy you are?
Tell me why you smile every day?
Tell me who labelled you amazing?
Tell me if I’m ever wrong?
Baby girl!
I love you.
Always here for you.
I’ve evolved.
Cider, Cider, Cider, Cider. CIDER-UPPERCUT
Spinning-bird-kick!
My purpose is to…
Your purpose is worthless.
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