SIXTEEN04.12.2016
sunday afternoons are for reminiscing, that drifts, slowly, into nostalgia, and the suns descend brings misery to my feet. how the fuck am i going to get through another week when i feel this empty. sunday afternoons, and i am running my fingers over the ridges and the gaping voids here where my soul used to be. how am i supposed to scale this, how am i supposed to function when most of myself i have left behind. does this mean anything if i am still writing about someplace else?
sunday afternoons are for reminiscing, that drifts, slowly, into nostalgia, and the suns descend brings misery to my feet. how the fuck am i going to get through another week when i feel this empty. sunday afternoons, and i am running my fingers over the ridges and the gaping voids here where my soul used to be. how am i supposed to scale this, how am i supposed to function when most of myself i have left behind. does this mean anything if i am still writing about someplace else?