this is what happens when i wake up at 7:00am apparently: posting about dinosaurs, vaguely angry about nothing at all, admiring bee hotel, seb natalie pinkham and bernie collins are a girl group now, alphatauri slander, technical f1, prosenna webeaving, crying because this carrd i made for fun is stressing me out, thinking of a new knitting project every 2 seconds, buying tickets to alpines downfall
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and sure enough you are there;
stoically looking down at your phone
nonchalantly attending
to something of more worth
carelessly leaning back
reaching some type of stalemate
with the force drawing you in
i feel i’d love you until your lips turned,
with the wisdom of age,
into themselves,
perhaps wishing to return home
within
or maybe simply capitulating
to the whims of physics
and as i fall for some masquerade
some image i scarcely know
a few words i’ve foolishly taken as symbols
tokens of a non-existent affection
i wonder am i no different, equally and always
tumbling down, over my pride,
with some melancholic gravity
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