A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad
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How wicked the wild winds span summer tides
So I could not sweep up the remnants of you
And sit them on my lap.
How tight the madman’s hand clenched my jaw
Pushed me to the wall
Like I was paper-thin,
Yet I, surely palpable in speech,
Cry out,
To the heavens
To the Gods
To the game show host
I can give you the answers.
But sound is malleable
And the winds bend it into absence.
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