Anxiety bomb — lonerloaner

My anxiety is an axe murderer, with a flower in its hand, it urges me to slay my self, with ill will and poetic demand, and bitters and salt, and honey and malt, grains of irreconcilability through me, malleable like mountains, in desert sands. It’s wanting to read a book, at the same time as […]

via Anxiety bomb — lonerloaner

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