• illicit_skunk 15w


    wringing freshly washed clothes

    as the air smells of detergent; 

    the water trickles down my elbows.

    the microwave beeps for 5 times

    and the song on the radio switches

    to 'be there still' by Woods.

    the afternoon light leaks in

    through tiny ventilators and windows,

    filling the rooms up.

    rustling of papers on the floor

    as the puppy finds comfort

    in laying on the sketches i had made

    when i was younger.

    one of the sketches is half of someone's face. 

    we could have been so many things.. 

    but i'm here now.

    planning another trip to the mountains.

    never realized i had stopped writing

    after the autumn of '21.

    probably because the need had expired.

    a tightrope walker who lets go, 

    i wanted to float away 

    and wash my throat with menthol. 

    wanted so bad

    to leave that dimly lit town behind

    and reach for the cities buzzing with survival streaks. 

    wanted so bad

    to be free 

    and strong. 

    when all i wanted was to live a little more. 

    i am breathing 

    as the dusk approaches. 

    i have always found

    fall and dusk similar. 

    every other day, 

    i stop doing something at dusk;

    sometimes, i stop thinking about specific people; 

    never to think about them again. 

    to be laying alone in an empty house, 

    thinking about people

    who are now just memories, mostly bad, 

    doesn't exactly help me breathe. 

    a friend has come by. 

    a guitar and a few songs

    brought to the table. 

    his presence makes me aware 

    of my loneliness. 

    hours go by, he smiles and leaves. 

    i wait for another morning. 

    hours go by.