how dark is the absence of the moon and the stars - how dark is the sun in a solar eclipse(the moon has finally gotten his revenge), how is it measurable in this state of existence? maybe both of us are high right now, caught up on earthly pleasures fuelled by lust. perhaps we are kicked out of a club at two am in the morning, staring at the black, absent expanse the lies above our heads like a blanket. we question the cycle of death and the stars, probably.
mother tells me never to underestimate the held back words of an unspoken soul. some people have things to say, we conclude, with sighs on our lips and regret plastered onto the back of our throats, and some people should just shut the fuck up. crude laughter tumbles its way out of our diaphragms and into the cold, evaporated tears of the lingering night. tonight, we are doomed, ephemeral, and finite.
i weave stories through the air that floats around pine trees; you listen, maybe, or dismiss my thoughts as something i will forget in the future. you know me too well, though.
≠
attached an arctic monkeys song because i'm trash
plus it matches the mood or maybe i'm just too in love with the entire band
((also i published two chapters today i'm on a fuckin roll(i haven't updated anything in a long time because writer's block is a piece of shit))
YOU ARE READING
paraphernalia
Poetrypretentious poetry. FOREWARNING: this was written over three years. my style changes dramatically, as does everything else. quality of pieces varies.
