i dont know what im waiting for
its always repeating
never happening
i remember it but its like the grains of an old picture
always slipping through the cracks of the floorboards in my childhood home
wrapping my brain with mud to ease
killing me warmly and sweetly
i hope it takes me soon
maybe then i can truly be alive
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i think i just had a breakthrough
YOU ARE READING
makeshift roses
Poetrythey start to wilt more every day, but i can never stay away i grab the roses and touch the thorns, because pretty things have devil horns (this is just a thought dump. ive written a lot of stuff on my own so i thought id see what everyone else thin...
