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george Feb 2021
the sun and moon will always cycle, but the sun always lasts longer
for the sun still rises to scorch my face and call me a fool
for the moon is kind but barely pays my conscious a visit
instead i must be hopeful for the moon, even if the wait is long
because crisp nights are when most sleep
and isolation means peace
and isolation means coherence
and isolation means
when the soft breeze can lift me off my feet
to carry me where i dream of being...

but the sun will always rise
and the world will always spin
because no matter how hopeful i am that something better
will happen, will occur, will prevail against all odds
all of those belong to my subconscious
which i can only access
when the moon rises.
george Dec 2020
blessings and curses
warlocks and muses
some of the fleeting melodies this world uses
diminishing moments
crescendoing hours
the allegro of my heartbeat, facing these encounters
the event that struck a chord
intrepid, might i add
the milquetoast that's the real you
and the ego you wish you had
george Dec 2020
simple getaways like minecraft and drawing
now keep me up; late nights and yawning

i used to never stay up this late
but now it's all i do
it's these simple things
that keep me thinking of you

i miss you a lot
i would hate to admit
but what do you gain from
carrying out this gambit?

it's a dice roll on my feelings
it's a gamble on yours;
all of these emotions
that i try to ignore
@ me lowkey writing a sonnet
george Dec 2020
sometimes i think they sap the love and happiness from me
but that is okay
i can always produce more
that is my purpose

i do think they prune me of what need not be there, though
that's useful to me
i'm scared of vine overgrowth
my roots stay in place
george Nov 2020
"oh," i wheeze,
out of breath--
i've fallen.

into the pit i've dug, with a little bit of help
from unsuspecting spectators, at that
what a pathetic whelp

"oh!" i cry,
out of breath--
i've fallen.
for someone.
i've practically chosen death.
taking up space - mustard service

— The End —