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Fuck it;)

Word smith an unintelligent gun smith power lives, in the sound between your lips so girls bend your hips just jokes so, Netflix and chill, ...

Wednesday, 10 June 2026

Time to heal from a fracture of (a fractured poem)

a double dose of meds, myself condemned to ill spells
a fractured head, with fear of what sickness fell
heart near explosion dread, towards a sleeping farewell
over prescription dead, and awake as a heathen repelled 
from the overconsumption of what doctors said, an unfortunate heaven misspelled 
time to rest in bed, armed with nothing more then prayers to yell 
revaluate on what I'm fed, alone upon a mountain topped with a white pastel
and prioritise health instead, drunk off the fluid found in these dark inkwells.