1. |
Aurora Borealis
01:55
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2. |
Floral
05:51
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Have I run out of things to say?
Or has life just not happened yet?
The fear of staying this way
Reinforced by my high school dead end job
Nothing’s changed. Have I?
Do I identify with all these people?
Get me out of the middle of the road
Unless I stay there
A sad, sad, existence
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3. |
June 5th // July 5th
03:10
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It breaks me up
To see you broken up
Wish I could always be
Comforting
Having two mouths
is a dangerous way
To live
And be friends
If only I
Could be stronger for you
I’m a coward
And I know it, too
No one deserves
To be lied to
Like the way
You have been used
And so the extreme fatigue hit while I was driving home / and the reflections came of why this may be from one night before
When your skin collided with mine and we embraced in a way that I have never felt before, / it felt special
And then the next day when I could feel the burden of your legs onto mine, / and that night when our hands were intertwined
After the fatigue fades we confess to one another, / but the miles are absolutely killing me
Sitting in a break room
Finger numb with pain
Not gonna die here
But maybe something worse
My veins are exposed
I knew when I was told
Not bleeding through
Wish I was here with you
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4. |
untitled
02:13
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5. |
When is Whenever?
05:15
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I feel pathetic. So desperate / that I’ll reach at the mere sight of anything. / I’m motionless. Everything has faded. / There’s only 1 thing on my mind. I can’t stand it.
When is “whenever”? Can it be right now? / When is “whenever”? I wish it was right now
Wish I could put you at ease, help you breathe. / This is the longest night of my life. I’d sacrifice / anything I have to help. / When will I get the courage?
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6. |
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I started my college experience with the idea that I was going to do everything. Everything for myself and nothing less. I thought merit was gold. But that still doesn't explain why I had panic attacks in my shower, late second semester feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't stand up to get clean. That doesn't explain the panic in my fathers face when he saw his pile of a son sprawled in anguish on the bathroom tile. That doesn't explain the weeks I had to spend shower-less, in bed, torn open and bruised, alone. And as I sat in the living room of my childhood home the walls scream out a 9-week chant
Failure, failure, failure
Flowers bloom in my lungs,
Shivering sharp scarce breath,
Shallow chest,
White knuckled and tasting death
The last people to stay in this room died in hospital beds like the one that I'm in
I remember faces
I remember places
I remember gnarled smiles, curled fingers pointing
Smell of sweat and copper hung thick in the air
Maybe I'll die in August
They don't call em dog days for nothin
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