subtext ii

[10.1017_24.3 all things previously left twixt lines including translations without any explanations for those not privy to the inside story_ now irrelevant koshkaisms]
there! behold the bluebird bones ov my spine hunched in grief
do you see the poppies{?}  
sprouting from the schisms, they only grow when i  
am lost in the darkest places ov myself  
they are always white  
i bleed too much for them to be any other hue,
you understand?  
i am not flinging them at your feet, mind you, i believe i have  
stepped on your toes one too many times  
as i tried to dance away_  
there is still music, somewhere  
maybe here  
but it the song elsewhere that plays loudest
            you're an ass, she interjected.
       you are everything right & good & sacrosanct, she meant.
              you're an ass, she joked.  
      you're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful, she meant.  
... i was meant to be saying something, wasn't i? i'm sure  
there was something i wanted to say...  
[2.0 ov miscellany/misery ~ press'd flowers & other pretty irrelevant things, stuff, etceteras that are wholly disconnected. i am concerned for my sugar bowl]
don't mind me, love  
i've been using pieces ov my sanity as breadcrumbs  
whimsically losing my mind; it seems more dignified this way
as tho i might turn around at any point in the downwards spiral,
return to 0.0  
& love you tentatively_  
hoard the secret like a stone beneath my tongue,
allude ...
... i am drunk & melancholy for places found only  
where the dmt has paved my synapses to;
i am trying to stay there,
trying & failing each time i wake to whatever time ov day  
breaks the illusion.  
it's the kettle's fault.
we never owned one like this.
i hate this kettle.  
fucking hate it.  
i hate that i know why i do.  
[3.22_*00.005: redux ov weak// additionals & incidentals not previously accounted for by the cunt who wrote the script. i am drawing a map, pray satan i remember the road... i'm lighting a cigarette for this]
i drown in the chaos under my skin, drawn & quartered  
by thoughts that know no social convention,
surfacing at all hours ov consciousness  
{no matter the brevity ov the latter
the aforesaid being most deliberate}
& i play devils advocate at stupid o clock  
with my eyes full ov grit, a glass ov wine in a death grip  
{don't judge me,
somewhere there's a time zone where it's appropriate  
to replace breakfast with booze}  
it may be the pills talking but  
i love you
i love you  
i love you  
i love you  
whenever,  wherever  
i love you  
can we blame the pills?  
[1.61803 the specified content type was not found: or misunderstood,  i think it's a series ov miscommunications, missing words & meanings i cannot explain.]
i was meant to be saying something, wasn't i?  
barely remember  
barely remember to dress these days,  
barely remember the days  
i know i hate mondays & we kiss & make up by saturday morning  
when i am too lazy to make up but you still think  
i'm beautiful when i emerge from the sheets like a creature from the swamp ~
... i'm scared.  
so scared this time ...  
never cared about afterwards before  
that's what i wanted to say  
i'm scared this time  
leave a light on  
Written by Earth_Child (shadoe)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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