poetry is displeasure. i have not written in months. i drove through a desert on my way back to california. those two aren't inherently related, but i think it speaks volumes on how to set the scene. you can imagine a graveyard in so many different ways; like college parties, or something vampiric, or the day of my 21st birthday. i'm not dead yet, but my eyesight is progressively getting worse. it's called getting older! or, more realistically, it's the realization that i need to settle down before i never have the chance to again.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
If you don't know it's impossible it's easier to do. And because nobody's done it before, they haven't made up rules to stop anyone doing that again, yet. — Neil Gaiman
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