• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 12
Image by

Emerging

From the purple Prozac fog, you emerge
They told me to let you go
That we couldn’t make it on our own
But look at you now

Dressed up from your favourite dressing up box
A bus conductor,
Handing out oversized tickets
Yes, my sweetness, I will buy a ticket

Let us travel away from here
Outside of the city,
There is green
Away from the fog

Away from Him

1