This is all too delicate to be said right now. All too delicate... all too much. There is dust surrounding your past, your present and your future. Too much of it trickling through, rusting gold jewellery and turning the apples sour. There is only so much sweetness, only so much tenderness one can give. I'm sorry, I can't help you anymore, I can't forgive you anymore, I can't anymore.
journals filled with glitter gel pen illustrations of girls with flowing long hair, a cardboard box filled with dog eared books, rain sprinkling slightly, cold soy milk down throats // archaic remains 87














