Why should i forgive her for her being gay she used me she never did care, did she?

Dads 12 gauge lookin kinda nice right now

This song sounds like a ritual to summon a blackhole 😭☠️

this song makes me wanna smoke a cig while sitting on the track in the middle of a night whike theres a little bit of wond but not enough for it to be too cold (i dont smoke??)

if i stare at the clock long enough, will i have the time to tell you everything? - dandelion hands

Suicide Cleanup

junk shop - helvetia slowed

She's Not Real But The Feeling Is

burn my eyes to stay one within
I say your name to stay warm inside
In any little thing I like to find you in
Zero, I like it
happy, where it is
When my head leaves 
I know who it is
lucky to have you
my heart doesn’t like when you’re gone  

(Who’s to blame for wasted time)
(Who’s to blame for what you owe) 

And when the sky drops rain on your face
I’ll be the first one to tell you what it brings and in the meantime It’ll be here till the end

shrinking star

Structure (Demo)

Sign Crushes Motorist-Loser monologue

sign crushes motorist - i just want to hold her (slowed)

Eyedress - Flowers & Chocolate Sped Up

Steamed windows, murmured voices,
Wooden tables bearing stories untold.
I sit, a quiet shadow in the corner,
Watching life unfold like pages in a book.

There's safety behind the glass,
Watching the world without a word.
Outsider looking in, finding peace,
In the silence of my unspoken thoughts.

The old man with his newspaper, crinkling,
A couple leans close, whispers over coffee.
I imagine their lives, spin tales from threads,
Each sip, a story, each glance, a chapter.

Drawn to the rhythm of routine and rush,
This window frames the art of everyday.
An attachment grows with each observed moment,
Here, in the quiet buzz of the café life.

Should I step into the canvas I admire?
Join the chatter, break my silent vow?
Yet, here I stay, a specter in the backdrop,
Comfort in the barrier that words can't breach.
Perhaps, one day, my voice will join the chorus,
But today, I'm just a painter with no brush.

This corner, my refuge, where dreams are silent,
Yet, within me grows a hope to find my voice.
Someday to weave myself into the narrative,
Until then, I'll observe, and quietly rejoice.

This corner, my refuge, where dreams are silent,
Yet, within me grows a hope to find my voice.
Someday to weave myself into the narrative,
Until then, I'll observe, and quietly rejoice.

Grey Skies, New Tides

Coffee Shop Corners

it'll make sense soon


lifeline - 131114

shrinking star

subrigo

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