434 days later.

by Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen | via henrikaau.com

my feelings are worthless.
my words to you are poisonous.
you are love and i am hate.
you are peace and i am rage.
you are joy and i am sorrow.
you are light and i am dullness.
you are the sun and i am an expansion of darkness.
you are a shimmering ocean and i am a blazing fire.
you are the everything of nothing,
i am the nothing of everything.
you are the richness of the soul,
i am the shallowness of materialistic desire.
and i’m dying to be taken out of this body
and become marvelously pleasant like you.


(i fucking miss you)


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