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veritas 1d
the city is beautiful until it corrodes.
the city is beautiful until you are trapped.
send me home,whispers your heart beneath
a grey blanket,but the city is where love and
genius live,we can't leave,we can't go
send for home,it yells,and now it is tearing
you apart it is picking through the sinews of
your warmth it is shredding you out
you push it peels you stop,it peels,
the book of chaos sits next to you
should you open it now?where does wisdom lie?
is it in your palms,or beyond that,somewhere
hidden, unfolded?
you don't know because the city is still beautiful to you.
you don't know because you never open that book.
(but your heart peels on.)
"well if you wanna find love then you know where the city is" (the 1975)
I've lived somewhere between 25 & 30 homes.

The ones that stick out?

In Portland I rented a micro-studio. No individual unit kitchens: it was 'communal'. Bed came out the wall. Apt description: trendy, affluent, hipsters who want to live communally in theory, but eat out every day instead. Communal kitchen was empty. No one was ever home.

One house in Florida we had a pool and the neighborhood ice cream truck sold drugs. My neighbor took me to the mall sometimes.

In Wisconsin we lived above a bead shop that turned into a dress shop that rented out overpriced prom dresses to everyone. I watched middle-class flock to the shops beneath me. For being a town of 1,000 we had the coolest apartment because I could spy on the whole town and their frequent trips to the bakery.

In North Carolina we lived in a neighborhood called 'beverly hills' and the house was interesting, not very bourgeois as the neighborhood title suggested. I wanted to turn the basement into a gaming center for kids.

In Blank I lived in Blank, it was kind of Blank and I really liked the Blank. From this experience I learned Blank.
Seoul, 21.34 p.m

In this busy street people comes and goes,
some is going back to their home from a hectic day,
some is going to hang out with their friend,
some is going to recharge their energy with food,
some is going to meet the person they love

and here I am, watching over them from above the hill
rushing to the place they have to go
making thousands of little red-yellow lights from their vehicles

your city is so pretty,
just like you.
gracie Mar 4
he's a careless night drive, beautiful
but deadly, his laugh intoxicating
like plum wine, a smile masking
the scent of desperation.

I followed his tracks through the smoking
streets like a stray cat chasing
Moonlight, cursed with a curiosity
that’ll **** her in the end.

dazed, she dances with the devil
to the electric hum of city
lights that gorge on the
fragile glow of the stars.
Let's go to Sabrina's gym,
When city lights are bright,
At there, who're never dim,
At the peak of the night.

Let's see the starry skies,
While trainers battle hard,
With fire in their eyes,
Desires in their hearts.

Some shady figures – oh!
Dressed in black, I see,
Around the city and Silph-co,
Who might they be?


Let's go to Saffron City!
Where magic does happen,
Along this happy ditty,
With hope, and faith and passion!
A song I've written on seeing the trailer of Pokémon Let's Go Pikachu & Eevee. I'm looking forward to these games!
Take me to the sea
To the trees
To the soil
To the grass
To the mountains, hills at least

Give me air
For my lungs need to breathe
Indeed they are starving
They are inhaling strongly
To no avail, hardly any air is coming through.

It's crowded, people. All around me.
Full of concrete
I lift my gaze to the sky
But where is it?
I cannot see much
Except for the concrete
The balconies
The high rises

I need space where to run free
In the countryside.
I need to inhale
And feel my lungs fill with crisp fresh air
To give me life.

I cannot connect to the concrete.
It doesn't speak to me
The soil has so much to say
The ocean is loud and chatters on forever
The mountains whisper
The valleys offer comfort
The grass is reviving.

But concrete;
Its heart is dead, it never beat in the first place.

It's spreading fast
And it's slowly crushing me
Suffocating me.
B 6d
This country.
This city.
This neighborhood.
This house.
This room.
This bed.
I don’t feel like I belong here.
Primary-colored neon signs,
In the windows,
Of every smoke-permeated bar.
Open is in red,
Cocktail glass in blue,
Lemon twist,

Around the corner,
A French antique store,
With grand chandeliers,
Dangling from,
Every inch of its ceiling,
Emitting a coalesced glow,

Every nightclub down the street,
A party of its own.
Strobe lights,
A drunk teen,

Fluorescent billboards,
Brood over worn-out men.
City lights,
No matter how bright,
Can never drown out,
Their dark suits,
Dark ties.
Their longing,
To belong.
Their sighs,
Red, green, red, green
He treads to the pace
Of a heartless machine

Black, white, black, white
Her thoughts neatly fall
Into holes of delight

Grey, brown, grey, brown
They sink in the snow
By the weight of a noun
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