(returning, fast pacing through the backyard, spiral dancing through these black holes , lucid dreaming around the sad thoughts.
I've never been evoked by the thought of having you as an alternative, safe and sound. Cold showers land on my skin, and ruby red roses meet you at the doorstep for your curfew.)
i numbed down on a Thursday's morning, highlighted by the intoxication of trees.
Facing bedside demons, demolished and rejuvenated by the thought of we.
Trembling across the ceiling's skyline, transcending through a two dimensional zeal.
Devotion, longed for my slippers with my feet, and in the next two minutes I'll be In the shower.
Cold showers land on my skin, and the unfolding thoughts get prolonged for an hour.
Blood rushes and cyanided activities to do, get irrational, pale skin for the lotion.
(we had an argument in between, but the planned was planned, it had to happen, but we did live to not see everything else)
YOU ARE READING
CONSTELLATIONS AWAY FROM REALITY
PoesiaA self-entitled declaration of unwanted feelings in monochromic sarcasm and jotted down ink.
