I crave instant gratification and
the lure of feel good meetings
with hollow words.
I want those things too
And sometimes I do indulge.
But it all leads to an empty that aches.
You know,
those scratches you can’t itch
And even though I know this,
I still have to remind myself
those things are empty
and that I’m better off home
creating something of substance
-Saschia
The makeup drips down her face
Black tears
There’s more to all this
She knows it
She feels it in her bones
Even though it was wrong
She knows that too
But there was this push much stronger than before
An urge she’s never felt
She wasn’t herself or was she
Is this what being alive feels like?
It comes and goes, that feeling
Alive, is fighting the urge. It’s the torment you feel when you walk away. When he walks away. That is the alive. But, to give in, to go wherever you are pushed, that is no more than a dead leaf in the wind. Stripped from the branches. Stripped from life itself.
This moment you have as a dead leaf is your chance to fall apart, to sink into the soil, and to become part of the regrowth next spring.
You are not ruined
-Saschia
I lift my shirt
And watch their
animalistic features
Twist and turn
While I lust a long day
With a pile of books
The misfit kind
That are discarded
Assumed to finger madness
Only it’s those books that speak
The music of my ancestors
♡Saschia
