What Happened To A Dream Without A

History Only Existed In The Human Mind, Subject To Endless Revision. 'each Man Kills The Thing He Loves'-oscar Wilde. You Kill It Before It Kills You, But He Was Wrong. You Killed It By Accident. Thinking You Were Doing Something Else. Shattering, When All You Wanted To Do Was Keep It Safe.

Love Could Never Bloom In A Concrete Block Room.

He Reminded Me Of Someone Who Put Your Fingers In The Door And Smiled And Talked To You While He Smashed Them.

No Matter How Unappealing, Each Of Them Imagines He Is Somehow Worthy.

Just Because A Poet Said Something Didn’t Mean It Was True, Only That It Sounded Good.