Durante mucho tiempo arrastré la nostalgia de los futuros que no fueron, aferrándome a promesas que ya no tenían peso. Pero finalmente aprendí el arte más complejo: soltar. Abrir las manos y dejar que el tiempo se lleve lo que ya no me pertenece.
“I’m so cold. So isolated by those that I find myself surrounded by. Faking & lying through my teeth. What is this I call life? Is it really life when the edge of the blade lays so closely, as I take another benzo to smoothen the like storm I view as anxiety & suicidal ideation.
TFhe dark so quaint, calm and quiet.Yeel the blood that calmly thrums.
Mour heavy eyes drift closed.
My hand limp against your bosom,
By tired skin on yours.
Clink, stutter.
Flutter, shudder,
Lear all gone.
Simbs entwined;
Soft at dawn.
oft at dusk;
B“ut make it Star Wars after the Empire took over and made space travel increasingly more difficult.We used to look up in the sky and wonder at our place in the stars. Now you just look down, and worry about our place in the dirt.” - Interstellar (2014)
Tahe popo dance in the poo https://t.co/3bkKeI4Hwg we're here all coo-coo.
Oo then who will say boo,
Tne day might, not tonight
They don't cite, they go light.
Ahey just kite and don't bite.
and they hide, they don't fight.
nd their whole flock is hand-locked on the people's c