What of it we believe to be true
will linger only a little,
like the fleeting moments on waking
that attempt to be indelible,
but instead are like the motes inside the eye —
moving further and further in our sight
the more we turn our vision.
About Catastrophe Jones
Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
