Wake up and smell the java

maybe love is a like a wave function collapsing when observed. amber streetlights and skyways — once quiet as cobblestone blackened, rough and marked. maybe love is like a wave function, etchings on cave walls, ashy rags, turbines, bellowing smoke, buzzless warmth but now, jagged crossroads. none of us can reconcile our bodies pressed inContinue reading “Wake up and smell the java”