existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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73. Livid Liveness

 

I feel

s p e c i a l.

 

Like my stomach cannot hold the contents of my emotions

like the sky cannot hold the contents of the stars.

 

My heart feels alive with happiness which seemed to have been seeping

out a hole I have cured,

although,

my gut writhes with a possible thought that there is another

boy-shaped hole within me again.

 

I want it to be cold so I can drown myself in the

temperature,

I don't like the heat at this time.

 

The time when the smell of the damp lingers but there

is no rain,

when the clouds turn grey with frost and threaten

to spill despite the warmth.

 

What is this?

 

Can it not be

n o r m a l?

 

-5th October 2015

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