The storm won’t wash the sad away.

I’ve seen so many invisibles.

Hollered, unaware of inappropriate volume.

I now know how a painter’s eye examines

where a fool would hardly know where to begin

This is the rudiment of a goodbye

Because all our shuddering was anxious

and your nerves were all mine.

It is only ever a game and the rules

are whatever feels convenient

when you’re given more hope than

there’s any right to expect.

(and this right here is my curse)

a desire for the abominable//the miscreation.

I run from the haunting like its nothing.

All the gods I do not know I still reach ache-armed to worship.

Cuz I like to feel original pain

unique only to my blueprint.


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