Disembarked

the moon is proud of you

and so are the stars

and so is the sun 

the aliens are watching you, a little confused about your life choices but are proud of you too

L&L

desperation & the cold fog that makes a home of my wristbones. this is a story about panic. this is the snake that swallows its own tail, again & again & again. we can call it love, i think, if i can find a way to define what it means to be young & remember my own death. is still love if it happens in the dark? this is a story about panic. grief has no name here. it’s an exhale, a box without a shape & the dream where you die under my hands again & again & again. i know death. there is no way to not, in this time where word is synonymous with secret & every secret is a warfare in itself. there’s a trainwreck spiraling out of control somewhere. we’re voyeurs  to an accident that never happened & this is still a  story about panic.

mooooood