For a simple something

Sometimes to have suddenly awoken from a deep sleep as if the earth itself woke us because we could feel the agonizingly repetitive speed of it, always spinning. Tell me you still believe in science, I feel myself in a disseminated white state there may be no coming back from. I saw the devil in you outside Florence where we planned to spend the remaining years of our history playing with magnetic motors that moved small steel balls around in perfect orbit, or drawing stick figures between the stone walls of what is and what will never be, both unmovable, for sentences of all real lungs reveal themselves at night like the slight rustle of leaves, or an infant’s sigh, from the other language, the one we speak when we’re in between awake and asleep, that place where it’s not yet dark but there’s really no light to read by.

★ always up for making new friends and moots <3

it feels better to let her keep the perfect image of me