The weight of it all skyscrapers that have burnt out their structures and mistaken my arched stiff neck as something steady to lean on, but I am not steady, I am the vibration of a string minutes after it's been struck, no sound, no purpose, but moving still as if I always must he is an exhale the wind …
Longing for before
the smile that rounded her face and crinkled her eyes, she hated being photographed laughingas the lines under her chin showed,but now these digitised pasts are all that she has to remember the feeling of it. not that it’s possible to miss yourself, and if it were what would it feel like? nostalgic, regret, heartache, fraying? not thatit’s plausible, or understandable, to want …
the OCD life 