Poetry.

Click the links to read the various groupings of words that happened to visit my mind, and maybe I recorded them just fine, or they got mixed up, the neurons grinding little pieces of light and empty space together faster and faster until my mind was so tortured they fell into some sort of arrangement onto whatever was near me before I could find out why they even bothered to visit me at all. (C) Renee E. Lewis.

You don’t even drink coffee

What if I was me