Fragments

Trip on the weight of the world whirled through wicked window pane pain no one can hear the sound of shattering glass splintering or slowing heart beat blood spilling onto plush carpet shards puncture pallid membrane cutting couch and curtains coagulation tells you where I’ve been in case you’re looking but I know you’re not insane I’ll find myself later leaning on left over love and lacerated knees picking up the pieces alone think before you speak of forever I can’t find any familiar feeling in this doesn’t oxygen deprivation create some kind of bliss?

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