please don’t masochistically deprive yourself
Nothing now but the still
The afterthought of war
Reflection of the night
Upon the slow whispering
Of distant cars passing, exhaling
This room a dry card model of low light
Grainy as a low-res photo
I’m sitting up in the concrete pillbox of it
A squinting letterbox of window
Pinching the streetlight
Pulling through like a sheet
You’d think by now
The window would learn
It will not fit light
Into the dark.
this is loqui and if he’s not on your dash you are hurting yourself too badly.
come on: *window pinching the streetlight pulling through like a sheet*
pure brilliance - oh! and that’s my lame title on the reblog not his, duh. sorry.