"deeply i go down into myself. my god is dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence." -rainer maria rilke


conversations in dreams

a week and a half has passed since the devil and i called it quits. i am dreaming about him every night. heavily. i can't escape him. we find each other, and a conversation begins. the conversation is pleasant. we're making amends. i'm forgiving him. he's understanding me. he's hearing me. we're touching. and everything is calm.

last night we agreed to just see each other sometimes, and not say anything. just sometimes, come back together and lay side by side in silence.

i cry when i think to myself how sad it is that his soul is so different from how he acts. a pang stabs at my heart when i quietly wonder why.

but i know the reason.

it's the drugs.

nothing causes a dichotomy between a man and his soul quite like opiates.

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"in the slaughterhouse of love, they kill only the best, none of the weak or deformed. don't run away from this dying. whoever's not killed for love is dead meat." - rumi