it goes in my diary

writing something(seeming unfair
seeming otherworldly; like a not-belonging)
like a desire to be any other where than here…

now the inescapable inevitable is approaching
and has approached and has been for a short eternity
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ nothing to do, i do not have
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ a clarity that i did not deserve

things are cumulative; they burn harder with time
no sizzle and peter out like a dying fuse:
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍but here i swear i couldn’t tell you.

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