the self deceiving emptiness

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each dream has been dreamed too loud, too fast, too self-consuming

nothingness magnifying

everything’s less familiar than it once was

there’s this deceiving phenomenon

we call it ‘people’

they come in different shapes and sizes

they stick around for coffee, plain sex, rushed love or such

then walk away in line.

let’s copy-paste emotions, pretend that it’s love

then paint each-other’s chest with this nothingness we’re feeling

the sound of your voice losing its echo

a glimpse of speed

deceiving emotions

my need to belong to something out of this world

the world itself, the shapes, the stories, the hundreds of me’s and hundreds of you’s: a form of rejection.


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