I. summer feels strange, and it feels strange because it is strange. this summer has been touching me strangely. a summer movement caught me in its languid lover's grasp, overwhelmed me with its heat, closed my mouth with its hand
i might have said no had i been able to say no, but most likely not, i rarely say no
cant struggle stifled by my own weight, the weight that i feel especially in summer; a freeing and a dooming responsibility. To do, to say yes, to succumb
open entirely like a lens and receive
II. i am not being made a fool of if my soul is still free, if my heart is still free to me. but my heart isn't free to me, not really, so i am a fool indeed.
this has been my state perpetually. i'm sure it'll continue, i'm very rarely free, there is a weight i have long known and it seeks me
it continually seeks me; i have always known the feeling
of being its prey
but that's my life. i suppose it's okay. I bleed as do you, and as does he. i turn my face to hide my face and close my eyes so as to see
i wish i understood
i keep my turquoise in my poison ring, to make me strong, for
it's a wonderful woman that's strong,
but all i can own to is doing the best i can.
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