softer kind of tea;
flower beds roll
over scars in the road.
winter is my home but
i'm always so
cold.
the weight of
my own thoughts...
...all i feel is everything:
self-sabotage is
art.
there are no main characters.
so i exist out in the misty blanket
that lingers after midsummer storms:
stuck in that apathetic draft
that betrays humidity and
its ethos.
chasing an ego in the snow:
appalachia turns it all to ice
and watches me scramble
to an unsteady stance.
i've never caught frostbite,
though i reckon she was
trying.
May 24, 2022
May 24, 2022 at 11:22 PM UTC
softer kind of tea;
flower beds roll
over scars in the road.
winter is my home but
i'm always so
cold.
the weight of
my own thoughts...
...all i feel is everything:
self-sabotage is
art.
there are no main characters.
so i exist out in the misty blanket
that lingers after midsummer storms:
stuck in that apathetic draft
that betrays humidity and
its ethos.
chasing an ego in the snow:
appalachia turns it all to ice
and watches me scramble
to an unsteady stance.
i've never caught frostbite,
though i reckon she was
trying.
