(Untitled)

[beforehand]

As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch in me. And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time. So now I park my car down by the cathedral, where the

Comments

[drpepperrocks]

Pretty

[beforehand]

i wish i wrote that.
i think it could be pulled off as my own.
but the words of conor are too pretty to be my own.

[drpepperrocks]

Conor is too pretty to be my own. :(

[drpepperrocks]

i am lorenzo
who is conor?