Timeless xo

For the tortured artist, the ones that yearns so deeply but have nowhere to go.

It feels like there is never a home. This place has never been a home.

You have prayed for answers, you have prayed for an ounce of some kind of understanding.

You have begged for less lonely.

Fuck, sometimes being here feels so damn empty.

You have prayed that somebody could somehow see you too. That you can love so epically and recklessly.

You have always wanted someone to know the cosmic depths within your soul, just a little glimpse of the unending solar eclipses.

In my head again.

I write tragedies.

It’s a bit of my speciality.

I conjure up my own demons, sometimes I successfully summon it for others as well.

There’s a deafening amount of chaos within me.

It will swallow you whole and won’t even spit you back out.

It leaves you breathless.

Twisted.

Often unstable.

Broken.