moth
my first and last rant to make myself feel better. my first and last admission to things conceived. my opening statement slightly glazed. the turning point in a nonexistent time and place. the bruises yet to form. the moments spent wide awake and dreaming. the nightmares turned lustful. the shadows i pretend to see. the strawberries i dropped on purpose. the catch in my voice when i say please. the corners of your mouth. the blank ceilings and colored skin. the promise and token of appreciation. my stand against the system. my snarl back. the first, second, third memory. the ones not yet lost. the ones never forgotten. the milk in the sunlight. the questions in the sky. the noiseless mornings. the abductions between hours. the missing, fearless, and feared. the feathers etched not grown. the slight taste of blood. the streaming videos, captured butterlillies, and vox. the way its just better this way. my skewed depth perception. the sure why nots. the midnight gone cold. the leather sticky. the thoughts better left buried. the ones dug up and revived. the naked stare. the degradation turned poignant and sweet. my ability to not flinch. the crosshairs crossed. the magnetic fields embraced. the reverie. the too green grass and the pixelated willows. the will to write. the desire to darken. my first and last rant to make myself feel better. the end of now. the beginning of later.
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my first and last rant to make myself feel better. my first and last admission to things conceived. my opening statement slightly glazed. the turning point in a nonexistent time and place. the bruises yet to form. the moments spent wide awake and dreaming. the nightmares turned lustful. the shadows i pretend to see. the strawberries i dropped on purpose. the catch in my voice when i say please. the corners of your mouth. the blank ceilings and colored skin. the promise and token of appreciation. my stand against the system. my snarl back. the first, second, third memory. the ones not yet lost. the ones never forgotten. the milk in the sunlight. the questions in the sky. the noiseless mornings. the abductions between hours. the missing, fearless, and feared. the feathers etched not grown. the slight taste of blood. the streaming videos, captured butterlillies, and vox. the way its just better this way. my skewed depth perception. the sure why nots. the midnight gone cold. the leather sticky. the thoughts better left buried. the ones dug up and revived. the naked stare. the degradation turned poignant and sweet. my ability to not flinch. the crosshairs crossed. the magnetic fields embraced. the reverie. the too green grass and the pixelated willows. the will to write. the desire to darken. my first and last rant to make myself feel better. the end of now. the beginning of later.
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