i mourn a version of myself that didn’t think i’d be around to look back on anything
did you guys see the poem from a couple of days ago in poetry dot org’s daily poem it was so good and a treat to read
been thinking about it since i read it
(via fruit-on-fruit-violence)
More beautiful tiles, every single one of these please
- j (x), “rant post”
My sleep is disturbed by the tiny beasts,
who devour the scraps of memories that reside in my mind.
My feet burn endlessly,
and as they char my past to perfection (it makes it easy on their digestion),
i am unable to run or escape,
and they singe them all thru the night.