Thoughts
A picture of a whiteboard. Overlapping text in different colors reads as follows.
[Black text, not overlapping anything else:]
No.
I
Who
is. Your friend.
right. Or.
Surrender to the system.
Become more than yourself.
[An untranscribable scribble]
U
Europa.
Somewhere else
Someone else
Has created
And destroyed
More than I will ever see.
[Blue text, sideways, underneath red text:]
Some say
Life is about something.
They miss that life is everything.
This not poetry.
This is prose. An essay.
Of course
[Black text, upside-down, underneath red text:]
Pale flowers.
Left for hours
Sun above
A dress.
Stress
[Red text, written over the last two blocks:]
What is this if not me?
Who am I if not this?
To live for _____
Sorry.
This is not poetry
This is not art
This is some words on a whiteboard.
That shouldn't have been written.
This is nothing.
I'm sorry.
Except I'm not
And these words are everything
These words are poetry and they are art
These words are life
They're me and you and the connection between us and they matter