__kenma-kozume__

Chronic migraines really sucks like I can’t even get a break

Kozume_Deviils

@__kenma-kozume__ frr, It feels like someone is pounding on the inside and outside of my forehead 24/7
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__kenma-kozume__

Happy birthday yams!!!

ifIhadvancesaddress

@__kenma-kozume__ OH WOW THEIR BIRTHDAY IS A DAY BEFORE MINE mine is on the 11th happy birthday person I dont know!
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AlvinJunior420

I thought no’oned remember ahah.
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adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (10th November '22- birthday edition) 
          
          dense constellations and hearts collected in abandoned shores, promises absorbed in the limbs, seas corrupted with the sting of hope. breath of swords carved in mayhems and mangroves; where the neglected have built a home, yet home is where only fire quenches fire. 
          
          snowcapped shoulders and unparalleled vastness, hidden beneath wrath, swallowed flames of raining eclipses. how far along does a heart remain an organ; how long before it melts into its surroundings, into unbuffered skin?- it is nothing but a rag dipped in moonlit mornings. 
          
          garden the ocean with a turbulent blue, shadow the night with charcoal bones; a pact, a silience, a season that preys and an ache that dances with foetal limbs. swallow the depths, swallow the tears of chartreuses; replenishing water, deadly oceans and lakes. 
          
          harbingers of luminescent plight, wraith blossoms and graveyard joints; masked surfaces and shallow layers. hollowness hidden under hollowness, what thief would rob an empty shelf? to his dismay, in every night there is a tendril of noor, one that greed swallows as nothingness;  for a rainbow forms, when the sky goes blind with a few raindrops. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (07th november 2022) 
          
          patterns on palms and paws, warriors of lost tears; smears and sunlight immersed in veins; water and wax, both who prick sins. mind the bashful door, the silhouettes of skins unfurnished; freedom is only if the streets are not crowded with regret. 
          
          ports of integrity and boats of grace; rain a moon that reverberates, a storm and wings with their own mind. condemn the sky and its fingers of silver syllables; what cannot hold blood can only ever be vacant. 
          
          secure the horizon, wash the world with ancient rhymes; hang the throat by its heart. song of canaries, struggling cabarets; they say nature is weak where footprints are dense. here is the hand, the hand of reckoning; sometimes stalwart beneath abyss. 
          
          tides crash into limbs, limbs of salt and tsunamis; hope dragged in a slipstream, gratitude weather worn, vehement. find me in seas and mysteries; lock your eyes with the breathless cerulean. be it silly or be it the law; do not water a thorn hoping it will grow as a rose. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (5th november 2022) 
          
          mouth of honesty, bloody honey; ravenous sobriquets, transparent metaphors. panting edicts, divine passages; unambiguous gravity, chaotic muscles. summer hunger, fermenting sun; mullein breaths, fervent dust. metamorphic roads, joyous courage; naked rage and newborn remembrance. 
          
          exuberant mountains, icy bees; conformed pollen, eclipsed wins. clavicle roots, burning prayers; mediocre comfort, hopeful sorrows. web of confidants, shadows of the known; gentle croaks, hesitant murders. mind a wild animal, a forest caged; auroras and sacrifices, reminiscent repercussions. 
          
          bodies of petunias, breathing skins; blood of stories, water of prison. white cotton whispers, kind demons; alchemy of weaknesses, battling questions. sacred dignity, waves of hormones; rituals of october, bargaining autumn. drop by drop, zest of oranges. 
          
          esprit of mother's milk, primal daughters; lust of earth, a shadow pure. work into exhaustion, round the clock and round the ; there is half of hope alive, half of flesh left to strain. cold is the night, still and mellow; cold is the sun that has wrung itself yellow. perhaps the moon curses its cries, hides in lone pain and white sky, for then it is rarely rejected; unlike storms. 
           #adropofhumanity