torn, between freedom & simplicity sitting simply empty with you next to me everything is possible—
[at least, that’s what i said. but it isn’t true, is it?]
there is— everything. but instead you tell me, there is nothing.
oh, how this empty wonder draws me in— a secret wonder of me, myself, and i.
this midnight of ink and cinematic sapphire. sobbing, a plethora of melting thunder and light years of voided nothings meld within this vicious romanticism.
oh, how i wish you were here in this colosseum of poisonous fantasy, creeping through these ghostly streets
with the ghost of what it once was, quaking bubbles of reality skimming the surface of neon lights
crumbling lightning— choked breaths escape.