There are thorns in the garden. I try to focus on the lilacs and lavenders, but every now and then the thornbush creeps above the flowerbed. Dark, twisted, ugly thorns
Write a note, fold it up, toss it to the ether. I used to be in love with you. Or at least I thought I was. Now your burning silver
Take a stroll in the evening breeze, under the summer sky. Breathe along with the clouds, slow and calm. Dance for a while, feel your feet kick up the earth
I long for the time before existence. I fear i have begun to romanticize the void, that eternal darkness we hail from. Where nothing is real and no one's awake.
Lost most of my demons in gardens and drowned all the rest in some battery acid. A decade of pain burned in a second like blue fire on absinthe. The