Unspoiled

There's so much I've been taught in school. But I've learned one thing: how much people deny their need for good stories. A lie, a truth, doesn't really matter. What matters is control. That's the gist: if you hold it, they buy it.

The cotton drifted, unfolding the pristine blue that played a melodic acoustic soundtrack by my ear. The maple leaves rustling beneath my striped pyjamas pants joined the serene tweeting, occupying the main performing slot.

Sweet Cavity can be enjoyed as an experimental sweet menu, my attempt to figure out the ultimate etiquette to devour the umami of companionship. The bonbon textures of language and structure serve to pierce, to dip, to scoop, to shovel in unique ways, challenging your poetic pancreas.

Some of my classmates were startled when they saw me on stage, but they applauded. I've never really stepped foot on a stage since. My dad said no. He switched from Ted Talks to Trump.