coffee and weed in the morning; smiling at the thought of doing things which seem counterintuitive...
you are this fortuitous tourist
and i am just bankrupt on pancake love. you give and give; i take and take. i steal and steal; you donate and donate. i forget to feel
in the crucial moments; i forgot
now all my love is the same as money spent; coins in a sock; blood on a glove; a door locked.
a general and latent sense of depression, which has been present since adolescence when you deigned to speak of politics,
decides to surface
at exactly the most inopportune moment
one could ever
imagine.
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