𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒

11 | WAKE UP

i can hear the shadows climbing up the walls, their soft breaths linger like airborne dust motes

and the resounding hum of late-night paperwork— being drilled, like tattoos, into peoples skulls

the roses sway sombrely in the wan moonlight, silently mourning the broken stems of their kin

and abandoned cars whirr with soul-filled songs— patiently waiting for the day they're re-broken in

i feel for the long-forgotten coin in the love seat— yearning for the bittersweet warmth of your pocket

the lost sock in the back of the closet suffocates— cotton and mothballs entwined, empty and purposeless

the sun surges through me, reviving me, as i sit atop a hill— i, a solar-charged battery in bitter winter, run out of time

my parents always told me not to chew on toxic things, but if the metallic sticks keep the tv remote alive— why not me?

i can hear sour hearts conversing with tender flutes of white wine; cardiac, effervescent— they bond over the conversant taste of disappointment

while the heart was comforted by the feeling of depersonalisation, a wineglass in the left hand never compared to another's hand in the right

each night i lay awake on the taste of sad seawater in my mouth— the taste disappeared when i stopped laying on my side

but each morning my pillow was always just as damp— and so, i yearned for you, but in this dream, love is not yet invented  

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9:58 PM 30th Oct, 2019

a/n hey, it's been a while huh?
( media photographed by yours truly on a very fire-prone day in Australia— the sky was very smoky, hence the redness of the sun )
— LAILA