Posts
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shade moon dust
My skin can flake onto my hands, caked like a cracking wall. The muse buried under sets of eyes staring at the colors on my face, not melanin but thick water-based acrylic paint that created some monster dolled up as a woman.
Loves
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catharsis
i am trapped in that broken state of consciousness
between sleep and wake
where the rest and rem comes from a deeper sort of aching need
fullfilled
in the early hours of time
branches shift against your window,