#existentialism

Perfect Smiles Are No More

Perfect Smiles Are No More

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There we go, Wasteland!
Loving not really, but the thing
—that only makes us happy.

 

The same cycle goes, without
saying, about escapist tendencies.

 

Loving thing, tender caresses
—Lacanian fantasies.

 

Nevermind the stars, our true nature.
Their influences are just imaginary.

 

See, now, our indwellings, barren abodes—yet endlessly

 

We smile at the Night Sky, and into the day

—love that's only meant for a daydream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EXISTENTIAL CRISIS

Folder: 
BATHROOM GRAFFITI

 

Since I am

alone

and no one

really gives a shit

about

my existence. . .

 

these are the thoughts

that weave in & out

of my mind

as the night drives on

& hours while away

 

don’t wanna sleep

on it

anymore;

feeling left out

by some cruel

twist of fate

 

but finally 

accepting—

just taking things

for what they are

whatever they are.



 

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