original date of publication: late december, 2022
I want to find death beautiful.
The restless melancholy that pulls my heart apart, string by string, the weight that grows more every day- it whispers a threat, always a threat, that there is an end, always an end.
Every day the sun sets and you don't get that day again. Look everyone around you in the eyes; in the future they will die. The future feels like it's not today, but it's never today, one day it's the past, and what you do will be something you will never do again. There is an invisible clock, always ticking down. A number of times you're allowed. A number that will run out.
I want to find it meaningful. I want to find it loving. I want it to mean more.
Fleeting moments that will be gone; losses you will sustain; love that will be pain; I want it all to mean more for how little you get.
But all it gives me is the same melancholy I drown in, and I have nothing.
I've got nothing.
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Assorted Poetry
PoetryI had a vent account on Poetizer, but it went paid, so I had to save the poems here. They're not particularly effortful, just vomited prose, but I had nothing else to do with them. They may be added to, or not. Largely not too graphic, but there is...
