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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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![]() Even if you are A God, there is still eternity before daybreak. There is still no way to tell your flesh from mine, coalescing into a cityscape of The forgotten; their children cry in your bosom and young girls fuse themselves to your spine. Look at you– you are the inferno that blazes for a wide-eyed woman and dons an orange halo
of sin, Such exquisiteness – you do not know How many artisans ache to press your shadow into alabaster, how many poets bleed your words onto paper. Soon I will be another with carmine stars littering my trail and painting a broken torso; I will have to find solace between your teeth and music in haemorrhage But if fear was a choice I would not be afraid of you: You are the one with terror in your irises, silt running down your cheeks and men climbing your ribs with threats to conquer–a mountain of gravestones Tell me, do you kill for the hunger? Is there rhyme and reason in the paragons you hurl into the smog like petals, behind the way you curl folklore into your tongue– Burnt bodies cannot recreate the warmth of late spring, a mother’s breath And the one deity you worship denies you asylum in a coffin, twilights you beg to be transient lacerating a heart still beating, treacherously beating – Maybe this deathlessness is killing you. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
October 2023
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