lily

i’m here, just observing how committed the ordinary is to staying ordinary.

enthusiasm feels conceptually far away and i’m not chasing it.

everything is fine, just slightly out of focus.

i’m quietly unraveling in the prettiest way.

some mornings the silence tastes like the last thing you never said to me. i drink it anyway. it’s warmer than the truth.

the light knows every secret behind my eyes. it still chooses to be gentle, tracing slow circles around the parts of me i abandoned long ago.

some nights the blood remembers what the mind forgot. i let it speak. it only ever says your name in reverse.

the stars keep offering me escape routes. i keep choosing the long way down instead.

paradise feels like this: mouth full of moonlight, lungs full of smoke, heart discovering how good it feels to drown.

i have several theories and none of them are helpful.

the standards were already low somehow we’re still underperforming… and the bar is in hell.

checks out

existence is doing that mild irony thing again.

i’m not entirely where i usually am.

some things are better finished than talked about.

the audacity is impressive i’ll give them that.

certain moments feel like notes in a journal.

i like when things go according to plan. this rarely happens.