symptoms of poetry.
a poem is a disease with never-ending infecting;
where veins are thinning, skin's purely ash—
nothing becomes your own anymore when
society prints thoughts as words, quickly how
language is released on its own accord to the world;
people snatch it up hungrily and their fingers stain carelessly
as the echoes of meaning hollow through distinct dissecting.
they say a masterpiece is worth more when one's deceased;
but darling, you can have any of my work without a penny
as long as i'm breathing.
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Dmoral
i haven't had an original, unpublished, new piece in the hottest minute........so here it is, i guess ?

HandsOfFire
i think i read this like 6 times :) "their fingers stain carelessly / as the echoes of meaning hollow through distinct dissecting" love this line so much. beautiful piece!!

zoe_eee
absolutely in love