Anxiety
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Years. Months. Weeks. Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. With the two of us stood beneath stars and scaffolding, I remember how good it used to feel seeing you smile so unashamedly. With my hands on your hips, young love never felt so good. The passing of unseen cars on roads that would soon be blanketed… Read more
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Young girl slipping between the cracks in the pavement as my mouth tastes the dead air and likes it. Sleepless sighs as she curls in my arms as somewhere in the future, shrieking sirens bring us closer. Drunk on words, and drunk on thoughts that never diminish despite the years and faces that try their… Read more
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Distant ships and your fingers on the lid of the killing jar. The taste of alcohol speaks to me of frozen landscapes while lost love lurks somewhere nearby. It’s in a handful of your hair as we do our thing. It’s in the silence that comes when you can’t think of any other reason… Read more
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The hours when no one knows if you’re dead or alive. Day after day of work to corrode the soul. Anyone who enjoys working for a living must surely be ill, for are we not poets and lovers? Whoever would want only to devote their life to earning money, is in need of wiping out.… Read more
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There’s something so familiar in the way the wind creeps through the keyhole. It’s in how I remember the smallest things that shouldn’t be important yet occupy my mind so readily. It goes beyond all I know, and from time to time when my train of thought drifts to far away places, I sense the… Read more
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Two minds. Two bodies. Two eyes locked onto the point of no return that floats like a white elephant above useless heads. Alive with fire, and so eager to take until these fingers itch without consequence. It’s in the strands of hair she leaves beneath my pillow. It’s in the gaze that cuts through me… Read more
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The early hours. The late hours. Whatever you want to call them. They remind me of the first phases of love. They speak to me of mystery, of celestial bodies swimming around bonfires on cold November evenings. The mist that escapes our mouths. The warmth of linked fingers to the tune of Pink Floyd.… Read more
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Broken pieces of machinery and fractured images of her cervix as the night passes you by. The corner of a street where two lovers kiss, and the subway where freedom of thought is discovered among decade-old graffiti. Chasing dreams in the rain. Escaping doubt with every mouthful of beer as those around you dance… Read more
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Compressed air for dying souls. Lovers falling through the cracks in a winding pavement going nowhere. My sweetheart, say you love me as the insects dance without minds. Just bodies in flux. Just an assortment of muscle and self-loathing swaying to crude choices of prosthetic musical tracks. She pleases him. She deceives like a catwalk… Read more
