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atticus wilson Nov 2020
I’m tired of the repetition
Of waking up just to feel...
empty
Of going through the meaningless movements
In, out
Step, step,
Scrub, rinse
Type, delete
Because that’s all that life is
****...
I’m sick of it, but I don’t want to move on
I just want something different
atticus wilson Nov 2020
Don’t you love being reminded of someone you can’t have
When their pictures pop up
After you’ve done everything to forget them
When you get told you might want to follow their band, then their closest friends
Eventually the algorithm decides you want to follow their girlfriend
It does all it can to keep the pain alive
The pain of wanting someone you can never have
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy they’re happy, but don’t the interwebs have a knack for reminding you of things better forgotten?
atticus wilson Nov 2020
Do you still talk to your old friends?
No
Because I don’t know what to say
We went from seeing each other daily
To once a week, a month, to never
Now they’ve left
So no, I don’t
Because we walked away from one another
And looking back causes me pain
atticus wilson Oct 2020
It’s so easy to talk to a screen
To write little poems and complain about ****
Because we don’t know who’s listening
And nobody knows who’s talking
atticus wilson Oct 2020
All I want to do is sit and write
Ignore all the other **** in the world
I have a story waiting to be told
But no time to tell it
atticus wilson Oct 2020
What does the afterlife hold?
Is it splendors for all
Individualized little worlds for us to live?
Do we get to go back and relive our best days?
Are we reunited with old friends
Waiting to swap life stories like no time had passed?
What does the afterlife hold?
Are we reborn?
Walking the world eternally
Each reincarnation slightly different from the last
Taking the form of our truest love from the last life we lived
Our memories mostly forgotten, but a few hanging on to guide our new body
What does the afterlife hold?
What if there isn’t one?
This is it, and all there ever will be
Short spans of consciousness with nothing before and nothing after
Our bodies and souls dying together
What does the afterlife hold?
A question asked for centuries, but you can only die to know
atticus wilson Oct 2020
The night is dark
Lit only by the stars and a single streetlight
A short stout man stumbles down the deserted road
He stops under the light and puts a cigarette to his lips
He takes a long drag, enjoying the silence
“Got a light?”
The man turns to a figure beyond the light’s reach
He steps forward, arm outstretched
The flickering flame reveals a woman
Beautiful, long dark hair shuffling in a light breeze
“You found me,” she says plainly, “so what do you want?”
The man stops to think
“I want... someone” he finally says
Smoke billows from her nose “Someone? You came all this way, for ‘someone?’
You know the cost?”
He nods
The woman sighs, exhaling smoke
When the cloud clears she’s gone
The man goes home
Someone is waiting
If you visited the Crossroads, what would you barter for?
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