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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() if only these chipped bones would feel something bigger than breath chafing broken-elevator lungs, the thistles prickling in wait under my skin. cast a fishing line into sullied consciousness and you’ll find shards of sea glass, ennui eroded until it shines like something beautiful. [somewhere, a man becomes icarus
and the ocean cliffs embrace him like an old lover before he finds the sun.] if only these trembling lips would utter something louder than the radio static humming in my skull. maybe then i could shout at him to stop, to give up because he doesn’t deserve to taste forgiveness like polished porcelain under his tongue. because he doesn’t deserve to know constancy like a boat tied to shore. like the moon glinting opalline as the earth lulls in its slumber. because no fire is enough to sear those memories into oblivion. [somewhere, a man becomes icarus and becomes the face of the sun and ocean.] colors swim around him like weightless bodies; they swarm, and then too many voices fade into one. my chafed lungs exhale before i kiss the salt of the waves. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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