𝑼 𝑡 𝑺 𝑷 𝑢 𝑲 𝑬 𝑡








𝑼 𝑡 𝑺 𝑷  𝑢 𝑲 𝑬 𝑡 silent stories
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soulstitch_04
soulstitch_04 aesthetically aestivating
Autoplay OFF Β  β€’ Β  a year ago
Look, tonight my words burn alone in the sky.

𝑼 𝑡 𝑺 𝑷 𝑢 𝑲 𝑬 𝑡

As the knife twisted

As the knife twisted, and the world went black

As the knife twisted, and the world went black to grey

As the knife twisted, and the world went black to grey to white,

many things were thought.

They fought the heart’s hesitation

They fought the heart’s hesitation, like falsity-fuelled armies on the boiling battleground

and even soared with weathered wings till the throat,

and even soared with weathered wings till the throat, but were not spoken.

Dim hour.

Dim hour. Sedate shine.

Dim hour. Sedate shine. Such a bliss was where many things were thought,

Dim hour. Sedate shine. Such a bliss was where many things were thought, but were not spoken.

An aching heart

An aching heart, an indiscreet mind.

An aching heart, an indiscreet mind. Yet a moulded, muted tongue-

anaesthetic in speculation

anaesthetic in speculation, anaemic in pragmatism.

Such a language was where many things were thought,

Such a language was where many things were thought, but were not spoken.

Now lips quiver

Now lips quiver, words waver

Now lips quiver, words waver, sounds shatter

Now lips quiver, words waver, sounds shatter as screams crescendo

Now lips quiver, words waver, sounds shatter as screams crescendo in the lifeless, bustling air.

Yes, limping mouths do speak.

Yes, rusted jaws do squeak.

But do ears hear?

But do they even care?

Such a world is where many things are thought

Such a world is where many things are thought but are not spoken,

are left

𝑼 𝑡 𝑺 𝑷 𝑢 𝑲 𝑬 𝑡

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