we're lost in a world that isn't even our own reality. somehow i’m on my own despite being surrounded by the others that just want to feel at home. it’s dark, and i've been floating in this void for so long now that i can't even feel the fabric of my own clothes. is it silk, or maybe cotton? a piece of denim? does it have stylized buttons, or does it have a zipper that wants to climb its way up my throat to choke away the air? being here makes it feel like i'm standing on nothing but a tragedy, and i'm so numb that the lady that's usually pulling my guts out to calm my nerves wouldn't even cause me to feel anything like she used to. i can't distinguish the real from the fake, or the fake from the real. am i even real? are you even real? i don't know. as much as i would love to experience the light, i don't want to leave when i already know i won't be able to feel anything but the gooey flesh against my bones.
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nostalgia | ✓
Poesiaa collection of old poems. * * * all rights reserved, © thxsungod/blaze 2020. no parts of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or ways. this includes recording, photocopying, or other electronic methods with...
