As our worlds weather pessimisms in madness, accepting your lack of sentiment pains me. Lost hope falls on hearts voided beats. An aetiology buried from meaning, hidden within darkened spaces, colors grey skies unloved. Solitarily too salient a sadness bears it’s witness in me.
Without his muse He can’t write a fucking thing Phraseology trapped under his skin Awaits release from inertia Awaits a lightness of breath To unbind his heart’s language A vocabulary of verity On bones winter white Waiting for thaw