THE HALLUCINATOR

The hallucinator sees the contents of their mind spread out before them, like dusty old knickknacks brought up from the basement and strewn out in the front yard. Their minds become a kaleidoscope. They look at their life and see themselves as a miracle. An accidental poem by this article in The Atlantic.

GROW TOO TIRED OF CONSCIOUSNESS

We yell at each other until our throats scream.The words (mean) and we know it! It is when we reach unconsciousness: we turn into sweet, tame little cats. Cuddle, we mumble sweetness, we love with honesty. (an accidental poem by kris of ZUPAdream)