Intoxicating me.

Scents engulfing and songs, sweetly, sadly playing like lullabies. I breathe slowly and I wish I could cry, but somehow I feel afraid to fall apart. My ghost is staring at me from my reflection on the window surrounded by black and stormy nights. The scent of hookah, of sadness, and stress like the tree branches creaking and splintering as they break. Momentary fears and hysteria threaten to scratch at my throat and I need water.

Who knew being here, as the person that I am today would be this cyclical?



Hug myself and slowly lay down in the darkness as the sky is crying and breaking apart, cracking wide open soon to refresh. Pouring like the rain, like tears, and like waterfalls onto the Earth. Racing beats—pound, pound, pound. Pounding on the walls of my chest, my miniature world surrounded in emotional whirlpools that spin me around engulf me. Laughter. Teary-eyed happiness or sadness, what is the difference?

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