- Decayed Love
Relationships, for me,
used to be the scent of happiness that lingers—
a mental space one inhabits without effort.It was all ethereal.
Once again, I was wrong.
I never knew it could take the shape of a carcass—
reeking of suffocation,
faults swollen beyond recognition,
a bloated stench of mental distance.The amazement I once felt in the present
found its answer when the rot surfaced,
along with the sentence that finally named it:“I married a maggot.”
- (no title)
The first post is just like the first page of a sketchbook — the stare makes you numb.
I’ll do what I always do: scribble without intent.
And eventually, an order will appear.
Just like the people of NCR waiting for the pollution to disperse.