Poetry

words mean nothing if they are spoken to an empty audience

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1/26/25

tension past the point of suffocation

past the questions and the discomfort of it all, past the caring wether its the truth or simply what your mind has made it out to be… 

and thats what i think is taken for granted;

the beauty of being stagnant.

the meaning beneath the unspoken is better than the permanence following what could be words between two,

because it lingers longer- quite literally it sticks to you,

until every word they say at all replays in your head and-

you’re staring at the texts wondering when they’re gonna talk to you again.

in times like these i feel insane, 

i’m falling once again (i’m clumsy) 

but i wont pretend

that this will be the end

ill add another to my list 

of the people ill never kiss

but really thats okay, id disappointment them anyway <3

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1/18/25

acid tastes like nothing but memories of snow

and as new snow falls and old seasons change over, i am remembering less and less of the snow that fell that year.

but i suppose thats why the snow melts and the seasons change,

even the grass will die and come back-

newer, stronger

i wonder if the mistakes that came with the old generation of grass leave such dark smudges on the earth, just as our self proclaimed “mistakes” do in our lives-

or if the earth even remembers its own blades of grass at all…

what makes acid different from a blade of grass? 

acid tastes like nothing, and its better when its snowing.

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