my eyes daze in and out of focus. blisters crawl on my skin in the necrosis of my soul searching for destiny. in my time’s rent I’ve paid for, never have I ever come across with such blasphemy as to say I don’t do it all together. together in some meaningless distant future. awkward ways and wonky wavelengths. lost in an evergreen forest, with flames a lit of a bonfire, steaming cups of tea. cute mushrooms frolic in fairy circles. there was no end to the last chapter, and I only speak of it now as my eyes are dry and stretched open succumbing to past old tendencies. nostalgia or home, I don’t know where I’ve been residing.
it’s the bitter pain I’ve always been used to.
petrichor - archive 