2:33 AM

these insects in September won’t shut the fuck up from my dad’s back deck & I’m grateful I’m home but I’m still alone in spite of it

I’m egging on Winter to get drunk on silence swallowed by snow

apparently this is what freedom means
or maybe it just sounds like it
because the static in my limbs feels haptic feedback-ish

I don’t know the word came to mind and I looked it up

     life is a little bit of bullshit so it fit


4 thoughts on “2:33 AM

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