stuff: mine

a penny for your thoughts? i’m broke as fuck

and i could use some inspiration. conversation. whatever. it’s been forever

forever since i spoke to anybody like me-

anybody like you-

rhapsodizing on colors and ideas and phrases, shapeshifting. i can barely imagine the mountains you describe.

years have eroded me. but you, you glint- what were you like as a child?

and i spill ten percent of my thoughts too freely in thousands of copper words until they matter not

a penny for your thoughts?

years pass by, and even the shiniest copper rusts too.

my friend, i’m not a good painter-

but your aura shifts between green and blue.