Liv Moody

it is hard to find a difference in the moment between an idea of danger and a real danger itself all i know is the feeling of my face burning sweaty hands the sound and feeling of my heart beat i hate the dizziness i don’t know where to look or go or think exposed i want to disappear for the ground to swallow me whole into another different place where nothing matters enough to worry it feels like a layer of myself as peeled off the one i construct so meticulously one of normality its uninspired uniform and bland yet its thick enough to bury my thoughts deep enough to forget them its comforting in its restrictiveness yet when it’s gone the release is too bare too honest my thoughts sound silly and childish and maybe that means i am to im trying to make sense even make some type of art from something i don’t even understand this is not art not yet but the release of just these words alone make it something at least realised maybe that i can comprehend such ideas and understand that they are not real

it is hard to find a difference in the moment between an idea of danger and a real danger itself all i know is the feeling of my face burning sweaty hands the sound and feeling of my heart beat i hate the dizziness i don’t know where to look or go or think exposed i want to disappear for the ground to swallow me whole into another different place where nothing matters enough to worry it feels like a layer of myself as peeled off the one i construct so meticulously one of normality its uninspired uniform and bland yet its thick enough to bury my thoughts deep enough to forget them its comforting in its restrictiveness yet when it’s gone the release is too bare too honest my thoughts sound silly and childish and maybe that means i am to im trying to make sense even make some type of art from something i don’t even understand this is not art not yet but the release of just these words alone make it something at least realised maybe that i can comprehend such ideas and understand that they are not real

it is hard to find a difference in the moment between an idea of danger and a real danger itself all i know is the feeling of my face burning sweaty hands the sound and feeling of my heart beat i hate the dizziness i don’t know where to look or go or think exposed i want to disappear for the ground to swallow me whole into another different place where nothing matters enough to worry it feels like a layer of myself as peeled off the one i construct so meticulously one of normality its uninspired uniform and bland yet its thick enough to bury my thoughts deep enough to forget them its comforting in its restrictiveness yet when it’s gone the release is too bare too honest my thoughts sound silly and childish and maybe that means i am to im trying to make sense even make some type of art from something i don’t even understand this is not art not yet but the release of just these words alone make it something at least realised maybe that i can comprehend such ideas and understand that they are not real

it is hard to find a difference in the moment between an idea of danger and a real danger itself all i know is the feeling of my face burning sweaty hands the sound and feeling of my heart beat i hate the dizziness i don’t know where to look or go or think exposed i want to disappear for the ground to swallow me whole into another different place where nothing matters enough to worry it feels like a layer of myself as peeled off the one i construct so meticulously one of normality its uninspired uniform and bland yet its thick enough to bury my thoughts deep enough to forget them its comforting in its restrictiveness yet when it’s gone the release is too bare too honest my thoughts sound silly and childish and maybe that means i am to im trying to make sense even make some type of art from something i don’t even understand this is not art not yet but the release of just these words alone make it something at least realised maybe that i can comprehend such ideas and understand that they are not real

it is hard to find a difference in the moment between an idea of danger and a real danger itself all i know is the feeling of my face burning sweaty hands the sound and feeling of my heart beat i hate the dizziness i don’t know where to look or go or think exposed i want to disappear for the ground to swallow me whole into another different place where nothing matters enough to worry it feels like a layer of myself as peeled off the one i construct so meticulously one of normality its uninspired uniform and bland yet its thick enough to bury my thoughts deep enough to forget them its comforting in its restrictiveness yet when it’s gone the release is too bare too honest my thoughts sound silly and childish and maybe that means i am to im trying to make sense even make some type of art from something i don’t even understand this is not art not yet but the release of just these words alone make it something at least realised maybe that i can comprehend such ideas and understand that they are not real