mort.

i watched you almost die so many times.
you’ll never remember how much i cried.
but you recovered through and came back to
and decided that i wasnt good enough for you.

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flood waters
spill onto me
dancing droplets
calmness in the sea.
vines weave through trees
collective conciousness ever breathing
ablazed ember
dancing flame
scorchingly scathing
only char remains

who am I?

At once I feel whole and anew.
At once I feel like everything that I thought I once knew.
Wholeness.
Its been a feeling that’s been hard to come by when youre scrambling to piece together the crumbles of what you once called your life.
But this is pivotal.
A redo.
A blank slate; tablua rasa; a take-two.
I’m changing,
I’m awaiting
I can only imagine the things I am capable to do
Untethered.
That’s been the theme of my journey.
The single word mantra I’ve chanted to myself whenever I’ve been in a worry.
Manifesting.
It’s a strange thing.
Because it never feels direct.
Just go with the flow and see what life brings you next.
Yet, it seems, all my wishes come true..
But what they don’t tell you is that your wishes dont complete you.

projections

He finally got inside of me.
I became necrotic.
Is that what you call erotic?
Haven’t heard from him since..
Is how I’m feeling neurotic?
Decaying my mind and clinging to lies
But the problem was never me,
It was the lack of depth you had inside

..projections.

release me

People youve loved
Can become the easiest to hate;
Grazing along the dim line of the

violitile emotions between love and disgrace.
my soul burns at the mere mention of your name
Increasing passion, the growing rage I feel to extinguish your flame
But it’s almost the same
As the intensity of our rose-colored days
The thought of the likeness drives me insane.

Oh i long for the day when I can ignore your existence.
There is no better relief than indifference

bursting

theres a sadness welling inside of me that disguises itself as apathy.
I always remember that I can never truly trust.
every ounce of unabashed love I’ve ever harbored has begun to rust.
I’m covered in dust that I brush off by laughter, but I’m unable to reach the ever-darkening corners in the room that is my consciousness.. that continues to spread as if it were mold. It eats at me gradually, leaving a residual pain accompanied with every fond memory.
is it maniacal laughter or an attempt to stuff away the pain?
Is it silliness or is it an escape?