Misha’s Reviews > Martyr! > Status Update

“I’ve read your poems, Cyrus. I get that you’re Persian. Born there, raised here. I know that’s a part of you. But you’ve probably spent more time looking at your phone today, just today, than you’ve spent cutting open pomegranates in your entire life. But how many fucking pomegranates are in your poems?” so fucked for a white friend to say this but also kinda resonates with me and raises qs-interesting

I turn my headphones up until it hurts, act like a dick to a random woman just doing her job. Because it feels different than nothing. Which is all sobriety is. Nothing. Nothing in every direction. It used to be I’d only feel something if it was the most extreme ecstasy or the most incapacitating white light pain. Drugs and booze sandpapered away everything else. But now everything is in this textureless middle.