Amazing poetry by a talented writer.
Were on a collision, Love
There’s been a division, Love
I don’t understand how to be with you again
This pain is clawing my insides, slicing, cutting deep and through
Platinum shooting stars burning –
If I could I’d isolate, I’d mutilate, I’d devastate the part of the mind that creates hope
Because hope is a torturous, vile, disingenuous villain
I punish myself enough, hurt myself, deny, ignore, shame, murder myself…
I don’t need the added grotesqueness of hope, with its twisted illusions, painting itself as some grand guardian –
Keeper of the light, savior of the tormented lost –
Whose thorny burdens crucify their heavy, aching arms
Pricking and piercing wincing skin
What do you think that means?
This highway of desolation running through my soul…
Fuck your insulting soliloquies about how it will make me stronger!
Who the hell are…
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