@sculpthalvesā
Ā Ā Ā cigarette smoke forms into plumes of never ending tenderness - clouds in the dark. he remembers laying in the grass once saying,Ā Ā look,Ā Ā lookĀ āyumi,Ā Ā that one is a frog! instead,Ā Ā now his head is cushioned by the cold comfort of concrete and heās struggling to find shapes,Ā Ā however abstract,Ā Ā in the aftermath of his cigarette.Ā āĀ Ā fuck.Ā Ā ā his mouth taste like ash. he feels as though he is missing something. not slightly,Ā Ā but the way one misses a limb after itās been lobbed cleanly off,Ā Ā the phantom pains so intense he grits his teeth. ( he had googled his name some mornings ago. he wonders if missing an identity is the same as missing a leg. lonely with just the ghost of himself. )Ā







