It is painful to open my eyes and find myself in superficiality, Nestled in the wreckage that this lucidity left behind.
It is the stillness, the closest step that gnaws at me — Inevitably.
That millisecond that distanced your cold hand From my warm self.
I foresee a greater pain when The fragment of this memory is flung into space, Hollow.
And the sudden martyrdom, rethought thousands of times About the avoidability of abandonment.
I lean my heavy head along the long arm of an aged sofa. I throw my body there, like a slaughtered animal, Awaiting dissection.
I feel watched through the ceiling, Which resembles the edges of a familiar abyss. Beautiful, transparent, yet sharp.
I close my eyes. Waiting for the subtle, dazed drowsiness of anguished wanderings To put me to sleep, imperceptible, imprecise and sweet.
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 4:20 PM UTC
It is painful to open my eyes and find myself in superficiality, Nestled in the wreckage that this lucidity left behind.
It is the stillness, the closest step that gnaws at me — Inevitably.
That millisecond that distanced your cold hand From my warm self.
I foresee a greater pain when The fragment of this memory is flung into space, Hollow.
And the sudden martyrdom, rethought thousands of times About the avoidability of abandonment.
I lean my heavy head along the long arm of an aged sofa. I throw my body there, like a slaughtered animal, Awaiting dissection.
I feel watched through the ceiling, Which resembles the edges of a familiar abyss. Beautiful, transparent, yet sharp.
I close my eyes. Waiting for the subtle, dazed drowsiness of anguished wanderings To put me to sleep, imperceptible, imprecise and sweet.
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