ame sentinelle, murmurons

my lame-ass poetry.
mostly I talk about the ocean and depression.
I write for myself even if it's selfish.
enjoy



Forward
Backward

this pain in my neck, sore and constant

I crave cold poison sliding down my throat with millions surrounding me, wasted in Paris

crave freshly rolled cigarettes, right side out, inside out, impress the boys

the boys with their charm. their charm, booze and cigarettes

boys whose names I can forget the next morning, 5 roommates as a witness

no sleep