That and I'm really just tired of my name. hahaha. This might eventually become my always account, but we'll see.
Other Me ======>


::descent::coalition of movement to fruition -- the end. knots untied, melted ice, rivers pooling in a basin with nowhere else to go. the final cut glazed eyes -- let the heart break. mud dried in a desert; blood dried on a bathroom floor. the sun sets. the last star burns out, leaf falls, cord breaks, bones crumble to dust, last strains of Scheherazade fade into the wasteland of a ruined life. his face is a desert. once-oasis of his eyes turns to dust, winds from his lungs fade, passes through his lips in final whisper joints creak, fingers::descent::


ourselveswe are a string of broken thoughts the skipping of some beat up vinyl record in a room with a shag carpet, the loophole in your logic. we are a lost generation, searching for answers to life's questions in a handful of broken glass, marveling at the blood-drop tears of knowledge trickling through our fingers and cascading into the snow. a machine gun shatters the silence of a graveyard. (if we know we cannot say it.) we are the cacophony and the silence of a world that is rusting at the seams, the question and the answer. we are nothing, because everything is overrated, &ourselves
--
Is it wrong to cook a talking vegetable?
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