Poems from dreamingofspirals
I lied awake to the blare of a 5:30 morning alarm. Skull-piercing monotony awaited my day, and what I thought, future. Another morning...
Where is this lost guidance I once knew? Something supplied me with the substance. Perhaps it was youth. Were my dreams a misunderstanding...
Asking myself why is a constant. By extension asking myself how will-arise under any new possibility. I take a step back and peer at all...