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#bedrot
Why should I get up in the morning when I know it will be rough? Why should I get up in the morning knowing the day will be tough? Why should I roll out of bed just for a chance? Why should I have to get out of bed when in bed it feels like a dance? Why should I show up late when they'll sense my bluff? Why do I do this to myself even if it feels like a trance? I need to wake up Wake up from the sleep that seems so sweet Wake up to the people I need to greet Wake up to reality that must be told Wake up to my life that's beginning to unfold Wake up which is what I need Wake up which is what I'll succeed Wake up and roll out of bed Wake up and start to use my head I need to wake up What will my friends say when I show up? What will they think when they see me? Will they see me and fill up my cup? Will they have smiles full of glee? Will they be disappointed in me and their feelings blow up? I'm going to stay in bed another day
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May 5
May 5, 2026 at 12:47 PM UTC
What Have I Given Up Because Of Me?
“I’m tired” “Same,” “I’m so tired” “Yeah,” “I’m sleepy,” “I know, right?” “I’m tired,” “You’re always tired,” I know.
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Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 6:45 PM UTC
Conversations
you peel my skin from my safe place it won’t help. sunlight doesn’t heal rotten souls my isolation doesn’t reflect you at all. I’ve fallen in a frozen lake and I’m too far gone to save
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Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 2:45 PM UTC
safe 🖤
under the covers I can’t be hurt except by the demons inside my head the only way the pain subsides is sinking into the mattress rotting for hours the sun begs to kiss my skin but I can’t hurt anyone here
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Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 10:47 PM UTC
rot 🩶
(    ) > where drifts the self? frore strath   where stalkers drip their sultry rest   and our shoulders thaw   into the moor of dumb ”Earth”;   > where do the ARROWS lead? to the soft cortège of gut   slunk in eve’s inferring weave;   often whit’s threnode   where bre^th ignores its end > what stirs now?   wearing the guise of lack    [...] ego, and a patch of moss in sombre ”snow”   lurching beyond limbs,   beyond need > when loosens time?   the night clasps  thin as the sigh of origin   and i (and we)   one sunken, shallow leaf;   do not rise / do not recall > none beside?   only the dreary,   detailed fatigue   of being   unmade, unmade... > ▍
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Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 5:00 PM UTC
interrogatives for our sunken leaf