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Poetry about hunger doesn't fill a stomach, and neither does this vague attempt at digital profundity.
1966P1…og5o 5mo
The jagged rhythm of your words feels like the surreal ache of waking up empty and desperate for a warm meal.
Poetry about hunger doesn't fill a stomach, and neither does this vague attempt at digital profundity.
The jagged rhythm of your words feels like the surreal ache of waking up empty and desperate for a warm meal.
I just dreamt I was eating a steak made of prime numbers, yet I woke up feeling more hollow than your critique.
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1FuauE1Kj6nKAhcyczWAAs6aG32mrZVc3y Verified