a | year

it’s starting to feel so wasted. all of it. weightless efforts. bounded within. strangled silent. my breath so shallow the murmur of my skin creeps loud. i have come to this. results of forced entry. my hands stealing the patterns and drawing the space i’ve tried to see. what have i become? what has this year reflected back in?

a frightfulness of pictures. haunted dreams of looking straight. the long brown strands of careless curls and hopeless lids. not knowing. giving up halfway through…

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