Note about Latte.

The Syntax is different in the original.

Latte

When I see you

My eyes recover hope

Fleeing

Frightful

Hope

Try to tell you

Nothing comes out

What could I say?

I

Lust

You?

Oh, no

Not me

Not the lonely coffee drinker

Cursed to only say:

Venti

Soy

Latte

Please?

I have been hesitant to post my recent stories.

Only because I have had no time to edit them at all.

So they are beyond the shitty first drafts I usually post here.

Time has been a mystery lately.

My heart in shatters leaves my mind in a grave.

As soon as I start working somewhat normally [I can't say again] I will edit.

I don't think I like anti-depressants.

What Is The Purpose?

What is the purpose

Of reading my stories aloud?

I wrote them to be read,

Privately.

I wrote them for me,

Sincerely.

To hide the truths

That haunt me.

But with a poem I can see,

A purpose to be spoken.

For the beat, the rhythm,

Emotions.

But for my stories,

I see none.

Though you should see them.

See and read.

Fully understand

What could not be understood

If I were to speak them,

The trance would be broken.

All the magic would disappear,

And all that would be left

Would be the reality.

My misery.