• Hannah Flowers

you are the insatiable burning in my ribcage the sharp breath in and the shaky exhale you are the itch in the middle of my shoulders i can not reach far back enough to scratch you are the pollen that falls from the trees incredibly beautiful, then again suffocating you are the late night, dreary-eyed sadness the weary, unrequited lust for relief you are the book i left unfinished just as hard to write as you are to read you are two thousand miles and a cab and a flight of stairs and i am far too fatigued and i know exactly what you are though you know nothing of me

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(un)holy ground

what once was sacred is cursed perhaps it could be worse the temple at which i’d pray overrun now by this wraith my messiah led me astray that’s what you get with blind faith my friends were also fool

you were a house.

can you feel me looking at you? can you hear me whisper to the moon? in the same way i felt you refrain heard the breaking of these chains as i tried to hold onto your frame after i had been an earthq

candles / spores

you asked me to meet you in a dream yes, i will, i replied swiftly for a moment’s pleasure seems far more important than honesty. have you ever watched a mushroom grow? some have spores which, at nigh