a life is composed of refusal and loss. archive everything. archive nothing. it’s all futile.
sometimes the brain is not a safe atmosphere. neither is the soul or body. no realities, past or future, hold your nostalgic lullabies for me.
i am an error dancing around in your shadows. i’ll be out of your way soon, blink and you’ll miss me.
who were you after everyone left? who were you before anyone arrived? reimagine youself. someone will always remember you. let this terrify you.
love isn’t a miracle. if it is, then holiness refuses to recognize our souls. this life is merely eons dedicated to untangling rotten heartstrings.
climb the stairs to the highest altar. swim to the shores of a ‘promised’ land. find a place to rest your misery under moonrise. it’s all futile.
if my foundation is unstable, then sacrifice is my only answer. something is always present. others whisper rumors of my brutal paranoia as if i’m unaware or ashamed.
my anchor resides lifetimes away. i will swim to their shores tomorrow or the day after after after…
waves crash and cradle, gathering my body with an innocent hatred. i cannot blame these troubled waters; i also gravitate towards anger easily. resentment festers underneath, natural disasters waiting to happen.
you’ve waited seven years. here’s seven more.
where will you go when you realize you’ve always been alone?