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Dec 2020
you call me creative
but my mind is the place
dreams go to die

they embark on a quest to impart me with
gold stained teeth that smile with some kind of weight

but they drown soaked in the ash
of too many stale apologies and
late night '*******'s screamed at the sky
so hollow they ring on their own

i'm so tired of pretending my words have meaning
but the only things bouncing in my skull are the nightmares
that survived me

so i don't go to sleep
**** this. **** me. i hATE me, bruh. lmaoo.
basil
Written by
basil  19/they/them/the moon
(19/they/them/the moon)   
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