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I stole that lighter from my sister. When I close my eyes i can see her, She soaks in the sunlight while smoke rises from my mouth, loud euphoria wafting off the water and my breath while I pass it back. The summer is endless there, endless with her. But the lighters gas is almost out and school started last month, so take that as you will. I think id rather stay in bed looking at the back of my eyelids honestly.
Sep 28, 2024

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i am a poorly lit cigarette, and i am the hand protecting it from wind. i am unevenly scrunched athletic socks and i am a photosynthetic jellyfish floating warm in the ocean shallows
Jan 30, 2025
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there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean? where the salt envelops every single one of us,  accepting us as kin letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges  and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses  which tell me that it’s okay to pretend and okay to tell the ocean all of myself the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral?  i don’t think they do.  but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh  as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples and wordlessly, tells me to look  and i do.  until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds and it's just the three of us. the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,  letting me see them in their love. personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand. everything around me falls,  like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum. and then, we were wordless  like the ocean had never spoken in the first place.  i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day, to be hugged once more and never again. not because i am tired of being alive, but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live. uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin  and better than any gateway into a better life  or a better existence, transcending normality and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket, decrepit and dry. i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers, into flames,  into an inferno.  Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
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We squeezed our way out through a sliding glass door onto the tiny balcony, standing facing each other, then lowering ourselves to sit on the concrete floor. He handed me the glass stem and I gently bit down, holding it between my teeth; he packed steel wool and a rock into the end and cupped it with his hands like he would a cigarette, protecting it from the wind to light it—so close to my face now. I sucked in air as he chivalrously held the flickering flame of his lighter to the tip. “You’re a doll,” he said in his smooth deep voice, then seemingly winced at himself, his typical bravado cracking in an instant. I looked at him for a beat, smiled knowingly, rolled my eyes, and cast them down and to the side. We sat there in the cool air of a rare desert rain under gloomy skies, mostly in silence—watching the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, passing the hot pipe back and forth between our hands and lips and trying not to burn our fingers. It was the closest we ever came to touching.
Feb 20, 2025

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