Twitter/Insta: nickmcc94
Big Things Are just webs of Little Things. My fancy fountain pen On a yellow legal pad Fueled by coffee, black The cicada who lives outside my window.
By Nick McConville5 years ago in Poets
My skin is tight And dry. I feel it stretch As I turn over in bed. My bones straining To break through And escape. Dismantling their host.
By Nick McConville7 years ago in Poets
