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  • Writer's pictureashleyandrews


Heavy, my eyes with sleep. My heart with longings. My head with ideas. My lips with sweet nothings. My body with the sensations left behind from you.


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the muse

at some point might there be a bit of inevitability to our actions if it's as clear as breathing our vices should there be such a question of motivation if there is but one thing that keeps us moving

starving (haiku 7)

Perhaps the “starving Artist“ could be starving not For food but for more

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