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 Feb 2020
Batchelor
Like a ******'s mess of a mind in a rut to get his fix, I ran from distraction to distraction.
The original sin of knowledge, and innocence lost.
They cascaded like raindrops on my face, and became **** on my windshield.
Slowly, becoming perhaps more bitter and jaded, a basic ***** to life and her schadenfreude.
A single desecration of desexualized thought, and that was it.
I wanted more.

I'm forever missing you.
I'm always chasing ghosts, even if I put them to sleep.
The thoughts hovering like hummingbirds.. for once the sun belonged to us.
Our nuclear sun.
The ray of light that once belonged to me. And me alone.


I miss you.
I'm forever nuclear whenever I think of you, for your voice echoing in my skull is the only thing I hear these days.
The guilt is pronounced even more here, before the chains slip off and memories become nothing more than a way to increase The King's efficiency in his ruthless hunts. January 2017.
 Feb 2020
Batchelor
You saw to that, I'd never stray.
Now everything's tumbling like cards.

Your kisses, were they for naught?
I mean, how could you?

Didn't we promise to grow old together?
Did the sweat of your brow on mine mean nothing?

On this hot asphalt. I'm left alone.
The dissociative identity kicks in and I'm struggling to remind myself why I'm here.

honey it was over before it began
he's so much better.
blame me if you must but know you started the clock.
whatever you feel now you deserve it.

Ah yes. I see it now.
The smokey-eyed stranger.
A scent of days long past.
Soft sounds of lapping water on my feet.
A cloth yet to be stained.
The book that was never read.

and you have no right, love.
shame in grey, shame in color.
you don't deserve love.
the clarions scream and you love in technicolor.
come back again when you can come up here once and for all.
wake up. wake up.

***** it, forgot my pills again.
The first of 2017's series,
Where we bleed into each other,
And my pain starts to leave me, but not without getting deeper.

— The End —