asklepiades (asklepiades) wrote,
asklepiades
asklepiades

and you say its not something

Isolation strikes as such an odd feeling, after the busiest of days
and you sit so quietly at the end of it all, waiting for the unwind.
when instead of sleep you just keep thinking; just get emotions instead of words.

it's three AM and the lights are dim, i hear people faintly down the hall.




its strange that,
when i think about you,
i dont think in words at all.
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  • (no subject)

    I was wrong.

  • (no subject)

    Everytime someone died. color and breath, the fast unfurl of carbon away from death plants that rise and grow, strange citybomb beneath…

  • (no subject)

    Bloomed in the fall, I loved you in the winter. When summer came the world was dead and cold.

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