Some of my poetry, sketches and stories out here/ Me breaking out, tearing at the invisible veils and masks burning my ties to a mundane reality/ my personal word-ic state of euphoria/ surrealistic ecstasy/ end of the world mantra/ Call it whatever you may… I call it Renutva.
The story goes that Adam was created alone, yet he probably never felt alone. Ironically, sitting on a bench in this busy city center, I do. We all do. Why?
Crowded breath warms the air.
Life, yet, undone into ones.