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We exist in the world
Of the living;
Living with the ghost of absence —

All the many losses;
We carry them in our breath,
In our bones,
In our eternity of memories
Passed down through generations,
After generation,
After generation —

Losing ourselves
But gaining many losses,
Becoming ghosts of absence —
Your demons don’t play well with mine,
They bite and they bruise and entwine.
Yours weaponize tears,
Mine whisper, come near.
The chaos is purely divine.

We drift toward escape, dark and slow,
They bloom with our secrets and grow.
Yours pull at my seams;
Mine knot in your dreams.
A dance only demons could know.
Light limericks inspired by the psychological tension of Anne Sexton's work, who frequently explored intimacy’s darker shades.
You speak with me like I’m a lost cause
Your words cut deep like guttural claws
I show that I’m mad, but I secretly plead
For you to for once believe in me

You assume I’ll give up before I begin
Because of past stories of how I have been
I know I’ve before overwatered new seeds
But for once can you please believe in me

You keep speaking of me like I’m a stain
You make me a joke to cover your shame  
I know you’re embarrassed because of me
You hate that I hurt the way you’re perceived

You assume I’ll soon throw in the towel
Like other past projects that ended foul
But of course I lowered my new dreams sails
When you only thought that I would fail

It feels like a wound being rubbed with salt
When you say the way that I am is my fault
I shout my harsh words, they secretly plead
For you to just once believe in me

To me you have successfully taught
That I’m a stain, a fault, a lazy lost cause
When I look in the mirror, that’s all I see
Since that’s all you ever made me believe
#assumptions #fail #selfworth
Our souls are dyed to match the dusk
And steeped in solemn, frigid rain.
We live adorned with shades of death
And consecrate what is profane.
The only things that glimmer here
Pierce through the skin and hang in chains.
Is it any wonder we all have
A curious love affair with pain?
June '25

An analysis of the goth.
In every gesture, repost, or rhyme
The universe sends me conflicting signs
I try to avoid them but I have been chosen,
To search for a meaning till my heart is broken.
Sometimes I think I’d rather gouge out my eyes,
maybe then my heart would stop searching
for signs it was never meant to find.
sometimes we say sorry when were in the wrong
just little word but powerful and strong
sorry means for give me a special word to say
just a little word thats not hard to say

helps you to regret helps to ease your mind
things that you have done will put it all behind
just a little word letters they are few
and it means a lot when it comes from you
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