jailed beauties.

i want to bail them out.

the new familiar.

clean thoughts.

there is something romantic about sitting
in a laundromat pondering your existence
on a rainy monday evening.

what does this mean again?

from the balcony.

i miss you.

unemployment.

pockets.

the familiar feeling of times spent in and out of them.

clean thoughts.

picking at a dried out clementine
while watching my favourite sweater
spin round and round.

i really don’t want to get old.

1001001.

“she didn’t text me back”. technology is so odd.
i too text, never thought i would.
just a natural progression I guess.