magoski
collapsing skyscraper—
steel ribs exposed, concrete organs dangling—
down
What is the word
For a kiss in a bunker under occupied airspace?
For living when living is rationed?
We don’t have words for this.
So we braid realities instead—
because braiding is rebellion: taking things that don’t belong together
and forcing the universe to hold them in one hand.
War, thirst, desire, service, music, survival—
woven into one unbearable, undeniable thread.
Favorite track: False Prophet.