Posts
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fighter
once i sat down on the curb and told you, love, these things aren't what we're used to.
we're stop signs like angels circulating (don't breathe, don't move)-
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When You Are No Longer Young
I hold my prefrontal cortex with the shame of
sinking, water lilies seeping from my lips into the grey-green
marsh I call (uselessly)
home.
My mind hisses with the strain of too many canned-up voices
saying
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3 : 0 0 A M
solar-soft night because i stayed up whispering non-existent melodies to the dreaming clouds,
pierced the veil of daybreak with needle-sharp notes-
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We, the Starry-Eyed Escapists
The tips of our earbuds
Like closed-up flowers, echoing the melodies of drawn-out words
Connect, bone spurs on a spinal cord,
Pure and pearl-white in the midnight
Underneath the sun-bright lone street lamp on 4th Avenue
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a mirror to your face, a prickle to your nape
We all hold hands with murderous intent
tra
ci
ng
the line between good and evil
like
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When it's Nightfall
My heart is being overtaken on the wrong lane-
I stand like a deer in the acid-yellow headlights, wondering if I'll die on this
Street of run-over roadkill. I can't stop for wishing that-