Laying naked,
Alone- becoming familiar with the
anxious stillness that breeds in my chest.
Like one thousand moths fluttering their wings.
Like the emptiness of the unknown.
Embracing this Hell.
The torture is something I tend to crave.
Inhaling fuels the fire with this exhaustion.
Drained.
Simple, yet complex.
Longing for touch.
So ridiculously tied to this shell.
Vibrations at an all time high intensity.
Unable to refocus.
To reconnect.
Surely it'll all fall into place.
Sooner than later...
Right?
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