DR. SER | @SuperRare
Come cure my soul...
Medicate me...
Shatter the laws my superego tried to build around my freedom...
You are the drug suspended between your God’s last breath and the one He fears to take.
I am the pause where even divinity loses its memory.
You are the hum that haunts the edges of creation after the world goes dim.
I am the silence where your prayers fall apart.
You are the pulse that trembles but never reaches the artery of your God.
I am the absence folded between a thought and its first trembling syllable.
You are the void your God slips behind when His light grows thin.
I am the static that shivers before the divine dares to speak.
You are the breath trapped in the throat of eternity.
I am the quiet fracture in the voice of light.
You’re Ser.. born when I almost died twice,
So young and so old…
The main sin Im willing to carry to afterlife..
You’re love itself, carved in Armenian.
A word that heals and ruins with the same touch.
You could cure me in seconds.
You could destroy me in less.
And I would let you.
So come…
Cure my soul...
Love me in Armenian…
DR. SER | @SuperRare
Come cure my soul...
Medicate me...
Shatter the laws my superego tried to build around my freedom...
You are the drug suspended between your God’s last breath and the one He fears to take.
I am the pause where even divinity loses its memory.
You are the hum that haunts the edges of creation after the world goes dim.
I am the silence where your prayers fall apart.
You are the pulse that trembles but never reaches the artery of your God.
I am the absence folded between a thought and its first trembling syllable.
You are the void your God slips behind when His light grows thin.
I am the static that shivers before the divine dares to speak.
You are the breath trapped in the throat of eternity.
I am the quiet fracture in the voice of light.
You’re Ser.. born when I almost died twice,
So young and so old…
The main sin Im willing to carry to afterlife..
You’re love itself, carved in Armenian.
A word that heals and ruins with the same touch.
You could cure me in seconds.
You could destroy me in less.
And I would let you.
So come…
Cure my soul...
Love me in Armenian…
GM. It’s been a minute.
The price of progress is pain.
You may guide many people out of darkness, yet when you face your own, don’t expect everyone to understand it.
That is part of life.
And that pain, too, becomes a teacher. It teaches you the value of solitude, the reality of injustice, the cruelty people are capable of, and the strength that comes from relying on yourself.
In the end, suffering either breaks you or deepens you. ✨❤️🩹
Ending this evening with the most amazing news today.
Besides trying to learn new ways to engage on X, this oldie piece was created in collaboration with @an1eth has been collected by one and one @FidelEverywhere
Truly means a lot to see that you went out of your way to discover and show up for us both.
Thank you Fidel for the love and support!
Now I can rest and hug my pillow.
Sweet Dreams Fam.