How blessed it truly is, to stumble upon a soul that wants nothing but smiles and sunshine for you, for the rest of your life.
Even if we’re devastated
and our shoulders heavy-weighted,
even if we’re on the ground
and all hope seems to be drowned,
although the sun is already down
in this unenlightened town;
stars are illuminating our paths
and we’ll drive to the seafront
for moonlight baths,
knowing that the sun rising again
is what we’ll see
and so will we.
—  // there’s no time to surrender

What’s up you fluffy little pancakes? This is the Seed Line for Typewriter Series #254. This little sentence rattled around in my noggin until it spilled out into a poem. Any other poems you want to know the origin of? Ring in below. Also, don’t forget there is a Father’s Day print sale going down at bit.ly/tkgfathersday for a limited time. Also I love you.

Άραγε περνάς καλά; Γάμησε το να είμαστε μαζί, στην ζωή σου τι κάνεις. Περνάς όμορφα; Χαμογελάς; Σε προσέχουν;

The fog on these windows won’t clear,
Despite rays of sun shining in from above,
Despite the warmth in their eyes.
Friends bring in heaters sometimes,
Line them up along the walls of my house
Like soldiers on a battlefield.
Somehow I still manage to stumble,
Blindly, tripping over corpses
With mirrors for faces.
I still cannot name her.
—  poeticallyordinary, the stranger in the mirror
My heart doesn’t beat here
My head doesn’t stop spinning
Walking down a street filled with strangers, hearts bleeding silently, but not without smell
It’s the same, big city, small city
The mist never goes away, the fog will always be stuck in your throat, my throat
My thoughts don’t make paper beautiful, stained black ink
Nothing more, nothing less
Buy me a coffee after a night out, please take my heart,
I don’t need it
—  When the town didn’t stop shining - Knight