Member-only story
The filth that shouldn't be published
My slurred speech to you, through a short term memory loss.
Yet, I haven’t forgtten your love for a single second, while kissing someone else.
I haven’t, couldn’t sailed that far for instant pleasures.
All I ever wished for, was to miss you.
Enough, to come back on a dirtroad by foot, by reason, by myself.
Now that these roots beg for your waters.
Excuse my bad manners, the publishers monetize your emotions.
(And subsidize these Chardonnay bottles, I actually never got to taste, since I feel a choking thirst for your affectionate silence)
Muted roots found their way onto screaming publicly.
Recurring, crippling depression brought fuel to life,
ahead of time to die.
Deep unrelenting permanent hatred for the cut-and-dried obedience,
I’ve caused & affected an unreasonable bleeding procedure.
It is all dispersed in the upstream currents of immortality.
Intestinal fortitude has misplaced air where fire drags one’s feet to puzzle a rock-bottom.
My liver misses your spirit, but my container cannot uphold, your innosence. It’s going to take a lot of work.
Insomnia, nevertheless drove hands free into the ally of false-growing trees.
In anesthetized sobriety, one must carry a family over his shoulders.
Due…
