I will out write myself

balance out my mental health

systematic poems under my belt

sailing a sea of unused content

learning to think, learning lawlessness

she still doesn’t know how to take a compliment

story driven, trouble minded

i died once but i survived it

perpetually undecided

disorganized excitement

precisely picking my preface

relying on relativity and good taste

I can draw well if it’s pre traced

is this weed laced?

plant a seed or

pick up the pace

everyone wanna be the goat

everyone wanna see some growth

but change tastes gross

choked down a throat

self love…

How do I come up with a story? I start by putting a word into my imagination, naturally my mind finds images and words that rhyme to the rhythm, I put them down. We are all just morphed into what we’ve become of our relationships, experiences, dreams, desires, ideas, fears…

Roses are red and violets are blue

I’m hard to love and hard to talk to

“The universe does not give a fuck about your feelings”

you tell me

As my heart breaks into a million pieces

and get sucked into your eyes

like little mirrors,

stars outline the black…

Rachel Rich

film maker. artist. writer. richaperture@gmail.com

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