(no subject)
There is the sun. My head is sun-strafed.
I pull them like they're feathers, like I'm meant to. I pull you like you're subject to gravity, like I'm gravity.
What's the use of being fraught and fettered with thinking? Whatever is my mind is sore and dry and if only the tears that soak my face could replenish it. If only I could ingest some promise, some white bright trembling light. Oh cleanse me.
Are we the ones who were born to comfort each other? We have cut our separate skins together for one solemn safety, but can we believe in it?
I pull them like they're feathers, like I'm meant to. I pull you like you're subject to gravity, like I'm gravity.
What's the use of being fraught and fettered with thinking? Whatever is my mind is sore and dry and if only the tears that soak my face could replenish it. If only I could ingest some promise, some white bright trembling light. Oh cleanse me.
Are we the ones who were born to comfort each other? We have cut our separate skins together for one solemn safety, but can we believe in it?