Lyndsey Grant Biography

Poetry is like sex
it gets better
As you become
more comfortable
...

I hate the way you make me cry
Tying knots around me
Forever binding me to this
Feeling of hollowness
...

Searching in empty boxes
Broken facades that glimmer
With fierce brightness
Blinded to the carcass of regrets
...

We converse best
Through sex
And texts
And when I am not with you
...

Time excels and I pretend to be
More than nothing
Hovering above normalcy
Signed away and committed to damnation
...