it's a sober laugh. the kind that remembers out loud the things we usually keep silent. it's a simple choice. or isn't it. the butterfly. the past. the ensuing catastrophe.
it's not what i wanted. because i never wanted anything. it's just the force of the moment. the blunt of the feeling.
i'm a poet. it's what i am. healing the words as if they are my disease. chasing the stumbles and the cuts. finding the beauty in the blood.
you're my everything. and my nothing. we drown in our want. laboring to love our assassins.
we turn in our circles. dizzy as we want to be. playing the songs. pressing the pauses. gnawing on the bones. seraching for the meat. letting the hunger have its feast.
it's not what i wanted. because i never wanted anything. it's just the force of the moment. the blunt of the feeling.
i'm a poet. it's what i am. healing the words as if they are my disease. chasing the stumbles and the cuts. finding the beauty in the blood.
you're my everything. and my nothing. we drown in our want. laboring to love our assassins.
we turn in our circles. dizzy as we want to be. playing the songs. pressing the pauses. gnawing on the bones. seraching for the meat. letting the hunger have its feast.
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