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doubtfreedomtruthwordplaymortalityidentityself-concealmentsolitudeindecisioncontemptwonderdisplacement

the span the distance, first place and the resting place

2026-10-02

doing feels a bit final, saying yes, i say no to some, but i guess in life one must choose, if they are to choose or, sit in a cave and have their imprinted soul imprint on the shadows of the wall, if it's a lamb, or a or a i what i've seen wasn't often what my eye picked up you act so courtageous but you're not really feeling love i can see in your act your backstory but it's not the backstory, it's the story you tell yourself, what about my story? so eager to die, not despite, because, come and state, compensate. the dust that's under the bed is it star dust? miles from home, is it cozier here? miles from miles from one must

how do you want to read?

poems can unravel themselves as you read, line by line, at a considered pace — or just sit there, fully visible, like normal.

change this anytime — look for “reading: …” near the top of any poem.

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