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I do not have the will to speak
if I were to string two sentences together
my voice would crack with the grief
wild evil rain, thunder, unable to die
unable to live, a tangle of madness
utterly alone surrounded by prophets,
the horizon rises and yet not healed,
my voice has barely begun to
sing the ballad of my destruction,
I wish to be utterly alone, to have no
hearts to rest in, the world a barren
of nothing, gently like death or cold,
I am tired, burdened by my existence,
the roots where my dreams grew have
darkened with envy, give me the caul and
the cord loop it around the kissable neck
of my youth, and hang me like a ******,
here comes death
she’s been swimming in my bones.
Been a sad summer.
Once when I was drunk
I held my hand to a flame
And it didn’t hurt
Ohhh it burns so bad but I pretend I don’t feel it
the only plot twist
that i need in my life
is us
I have something
I call it nothing
I cherish and adore
Its oblivious lore

But i want something
I call it you
And as i run out of rhymes
Please run out of reasons not to like me
i'm glad i atleast have hepo to express my ****
i want to be an astronaut
and bring the moon to you

and touch the stars in heaven

i want to breathe space
until it is gone between us

you and i are forbidden to part

i want to ride a comet
anhilate your earth with you

and together we will touch heaven
we will be heavenly bodies
come closer

i can't breathe

i need your scent

your fragrant flesh

keeps me alive

barely walking

let me crawl

on you
tried to write a poem
about how i can't get over
you even if it was over for

me for like a year already but
i'm speechless and i can't
accept that i am

so i just started pressing enter and
leaving spaces every three lines because
space is all that is really there between us.

Skies are beautiful
They have clouds
But they still cry

Why wouldn't you?

You are beautiful
You have poems
You can cry too
Because crying is honesty to your emotions, and honesty is beautiful ;)
there are unhappy people,
particles of their mind,
slaves to their desires

people who hate roses
because they bloom in
all seasons,
they hate them because
they are afraid of being
reborn
they are afraid
of death
with its acidic
lips,

they fight
the rest of society,
because their unhappiness
thrives from
environmental
misgivings,

but my unhappiness is entirely
my own,
my vices,
the slow errosion
of my mind,
who do I take arms against?
myself?

it's not society,  it's you isn't it?

because I
was so weak,
I felt wounded
by happiness alone,

because things
that tasted sweet,
always taste bitter in
my mouth.

everyone,
like corpses,
depraved of life,

of money

and of easy death.
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