a direct line drawn from me to my future is something I've always wanted to have
there was nothing but ash and burnt firewood inside me, buried under things that seemed redder than flesh
the eyes, they looked closely, inspected the **** a wound left by a friend like no other, or lover perhaps, who disappeared under burnt firewood and ash
legs, they carried, arms they held back, some confusion and worry of where they'd end up
perhaps a home? intimate and inviting
or maybe a hospital, cold yet enticing
the head, the heaviest thing, crushed under a burden so big, cursed to control, oversee, pretend and appease, with nothing in return except a nightmare or dream
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 2:55 PM UTC