******* of suckling cheeks
taste of wine gone vinegar left out too long exposed to sunlight twice ways between nowhere we drank a bottle or four before resigning ourselves to defeat we woke so many mornings in drawn shade sunlight with our heads split twain by buzzing we'd never known what it was to taste hurt or defeat until we likened our arguments to chemistry
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, so grateful for all this overwhelming support--this motivates me to write even more--never thought people would even indulge what I write--thank you all so much <:<:<:<:<:
again you haunt again you prey target my dreams on hopes of disarray you know what that I like seem to shield my tears from nights drunk on a hell I feel I pleasurably delight but what I don't that biting hungover on the following bright ------ravenfeels
And there is a strange hunger. Sin is calories. Drink clementine juice. It's filling a hole in me Like a new partner. I'm made to forget. Winter sun blinding my eyes. We say goodnight now. ~ A.M, F.H.
Written & Published 19th of January 2021.
like the cigarette burns on the empty wood floor from when I left the mattress there and didnt care anymore, started laying down beside the beaten, weathered boards; these decades in the grains of timber grew towards- I lie inert, my bones the weeping willow's withered roots now stretched forward to sunlight creeping in the windows through daybreak's drunken disorder. Dehydrated, tormented, and long tortured; regurgitations reemerged, restless, pushed shoreward- dysphoric dreams; no rest beneath intoxicated border.
Scornful of the rising sun Someone, water, please
Flaws don't absolve us of responsibility, yet they erode our agency
by compromising one's decision-making ability.
Sometimes I don't even know how I'm alive, but I promise I'll try
to do right by myself and live to my potential.
genial words like ‘Trickle’
and butter words like ‘****’ runny cussing out a flow walk with a tremble the street is charged a fear-ish plush ug the top of your spine and the back of throat feel awful and close ...but it’s just a feeling and ‘words’ are simply ‘words’
Hungover on the bus home
Dropping in and out of a pleasant nap A faded smile on my face Sweet memories of last night
clink down repeat. maybe this time you can take the heat. actually, probably not, prepare for defeat.
Makes the crawl Long before the body The light haze that lifted Is now a dense, heavy fog Gently I Swim down the hall In awe, How still the morning, And still more Submerged in slumber Sleep cradles But soon, a release Into the thousand pound mist And crawl They will crawl Searching for the day With her open arms