I’ve had a nosebleed every day since you died
and I don’t think that it means anything. 
Pathetic in a way I have criticized others for
feeling guilty for laughing or not laughing
or worrying or not worrying
for resting or working
rushing to write things down
time is so corrosive now
I’m starting to forget the way things worked
it was all too simple
the muscle memory
atrophies away
and there’s a day where I am happy but I don’t think of your face


I wish it was uncertain but it’s not
Billions of years

I have had a nosebleed every day since you died
and I know it doesn’t mean anything.
Casually endangering myself
not looking before crossing the road
as cosmic protest to a cosmology I don’t accept
call it “soft suicide”
but i’m scared that I’ll never die
or that I’ll die tomorrow
and nothing in-between
it just feels so useless
to progress
knowing slates are wiping clean
and even if I see the future
I won’t know what it means.

Anthem-smith and pyle 🌻

guidjapaxos

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