„we’re all too smart to talk to god” - poetry

winter is for new friends. the cold is for the walls you need then that you regrettably break down. the summer is for too much time than what you know to do with. it’s for bedrotting and drinking your own sad. i’ll always miss you even when that new dawn comes through and the sun turns that shade of pink i bet you like. when the moon turned orange yellow that one long car ride down to the sea i couldn’t help but stare in awe. i felt sicker, but that good good sick where your own your own life support and you can use that as an excuse for feeling sorry for yourself. a struggle to get better because everyone knows you’re a workaholic. looking at that moon the sun rise from the bottom of my stomach. maybe the stars were in my bloodstream, or mars was in my liver. it would make sense. women had to have come from the stars, that would explain why we spend most of our life living in yearning. if i don’t live to my full potential, on my deathbed i’d like for someone to gut me open and see if i truly was right about whats in my body deep behind my ribcage. you wouldn’t be able to see it right now, we’re not yet angels. when i’m leaving my body and my soul ascends i’ll look at the gashing wound of where the skin covering my chest once was and as a dagger flees from the scene with blood accompanying i’ll be able to look upon what i couldn’t once find before. that beautiful galaxy. i’ll know closure then. i’ll finally be faced with the fact that if her with box dyed hair and meticulous makeup had in fact not wanted me, it was only because she was just like me. there is a sweet supernova inside my lungs, and it ranges from my tongue to my kneecaps as i live and breathe.

- Breezy , 7:38 pm , 6/8/25 (happy pride month ig)