So caught up in moments passing, nothing lasting.
I want to make these thoughts make sense, but the more I say, the more the meaning runs away.
Good god, even my journal entries are in verse.
I need to stop.


Muscle MemorySometimes you think it wouldn't be so bad to hide yourself away Scared and lonely, doubting all the words you used to sayMuscle Memory
When your pieces cease to fit, And you're scared you might admit How completely full of shit You really are
Muscle memory, like a dying red bouquet Muscle memory, even though it's far too late to stay Muscle memory, would make my heart return to you. But knowing better, sad to say, don't do me any good.
Every face I meet, strangers on the street, it's just another useless chase Even when I want one, even if I caught one, they'd just be h


Messy.Will we ever really be Capable of autonomy?Messy.
I will not have a heart on my hands.
In the moment of appreciation Something is stolen, so We share the burden of one Another.
This basic animal kinship offers No reprieve.
All the open sores of longing for Intrinsic existence I cannot actively Seek.
Unfettered by title or ownership Foolish flesh without foundation.
Consider this a prayer for clarity and Recognition should Contentment ever come my way.
Eye full
--
"She who attempts the absurd will attain the impossible"
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