You Met Me at a Very Strange Time in My Life

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✧・゚: *✧・゚:*  ♡  *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
there i was, standing next to you
in a skyscraper fumed with gloom and dew.
you were limping, this wasn’t a pas de deux.
your face bred shades of purple,
crimson poured out from a hallowed mark below.
obituaries soon to be written all over you.
you were almost on the verge of doom.
yet, your face claimed a triumph.
soon, orange sparks from our view
turn into a tumult of imploding rooms.
it’s like the fourth of july,
but those weren’t fireworks.
it’s like he gave me a bouquet of dubium
that prosper and popped by itself.
all was left was the cloud of industry’s ashes
and i could see the clearance of the vast midnight.
one last time, i stared at him in awestruck.
we have never felt so alive that night.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*  ♡  *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
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Loners

(Bukowski Jr. – Revised)
*+:。.。 - 。.。:+*

i don’t get loneliness.
is it a sickness
way worse than sickle-cell anemia?
perhaps, it is as daunting as
short-term goldfish amnesia
or whatever medical jargon that is
i keep forgetting how alone i am,
i’m bothered by this vague disease-
a nostalgia i once crave,
but was never there in the first place.
i never liked that feeling at all.

i created a playlist
and picked out sappy indie songs
to arouse my room with whiffs of solitary.
slowly, i can’t recognise the familiarity-
the stacks of paperbacks, cluttered posters
and sentiments that i have hoarded,
all seem to dive down into a deep descent.
my only comfort is a book,
about a 17-year-old boy who wore
a stupid red hunter’s cap and likes to smoke weed
in his crappy cheap hotel room
on either the second or third floor.
he carries his luggage of angst
and left pieces of them
in places, he never ought to be.
he tried pursuing a casual conversation
with a whore
and likes calling everything a phony.
i never thought i’d give away
all of my empathy.

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