65. air
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all we have is now and now it’s gone, now is gone i mean, now is gone, it’s always just now going away as i close my fists around the air you exhale. and air i tend to withhold, just holding my breath and fearing that now goes away and now never fails to go and i never fail to fail to accept it. all we have is now but we don’t even have now, and maybe that’s why i stay up at night and now what is it that you can have, that you can have, nothing here. nothing now. look around — above — let go. you can see it just as well as i do it’s all all so pointless isn’t it? to hold your breath thinking you’ll control all of the air. to think that’s what it takes to change everything, or rather— to keep everything still. you took the wrong turn, darling. you’re up the wrong hill.
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• through-the-motions (poem + photo) • inspired by @writerscreed's prompt “all we have is now” •



















