And you still don’t know. Waking up to a world now so remote, so empty and, it’s fucking gross. How futile a fragmented mind calls forth beauty upon a bed of lies, in mutual destruction I so strongly despise. Naturally, they could see why.
9:58PM and I might as well be fine, up to date and out of infinite”free” time. Revised, aligned and losing feeling. Mind’s made up– I’m hardly stealing and still I’m reeling in this moment of inconsistent bliss. Now hoping to resolve the unknown end to a past life’s wish. Par the course to remain, a fucking bitch. And yet, I must have found my niche; my only found reason to finally forgive the love that dances between our bodies. Though it never did belong to us. And even still, we carry on to now carefully remain, a fleeting spec of planetary stardust flowing forever viciously within the astral plane. “Take no prisoners” and I did, as it follows me to an early grave. ‘Still writing free poems and left underpaid.’