late night boredom
Yea, so today i sat around and read the last like 150 pages of my book and caught up on sleep. Then my dad got pissed at me, like always.
some poems:
A Stranger to Him
My eyes detect him.
Amongst the crowd,
He’s always alone.
Blonde hair carried high
Above his slouched shoulders.
Sad eyes stare into the floor tiles,
Because I’m not there.
He nears me.
I stand aware that I’m
Back where I started;
A stranger.
I always knew
He was different.
Even as I watched him
From the swings,
Kick a soccer ball
With his friends;
He didn’t fit in.
And I would never
Fit in with him.
The burden he carried,
With the look of confusion
And worry in his stare;
Told me he carried a weight
A child shouldn’t bear.
I was a stranger.
Watching him chase the soccer ball
And my hopes away.
The bell rings
And the crowd brushes by.
Noticing he doesn’t have
To try hard,
When he lingers away
Without looking me in the eye.
I’ll always be a stranger,
After all I thought I knew.
And those two months
Of kissing and smiles,
When he told me he loved me,
Was finally happy,
Are somewhere lost in the floor tiles
Which he would rather stare into now.
And when I drive by his house,
The windows remind me of his eyes.
Glass;
Shaded emotions
Revealing little to me.
And I’m always left wanting more,
But I’m on the outside.
A stranger.
The Mother Ship
The current pulls her along into oblivion.
She doesn’t sense the danger that lay ahead,
Instead focusing on her sleeping children.
Feeling their fragile bodies move with ever breath
As she rocks them to sleep in their beds.
And the waves crash against the jagged rocks
Splashing her with salty tears.
Aware of the closeness of death
As the waterfall nears.
And when her bow breaks,
Her babies will fall;
Off the edge of the earth
Captain, crew, and all.
"Until the 20th century, reality was everything humans could touch, smell, see, and hear.
Since the initial publication of the charted electromagnetic spectrum, humans have learned that what they can touch, smell, see, and hear, is less than one-millionth of reality."
I love incubus
some poems:
A Stranger to Him
My eyes detect him.
Amongst the crowd,
He’s always alone.
Blonde hair carried high
Above his slouched shoulders.
Sad eyes stare into the floor tiles,
Because I’m not there.
He nears me.
I stand aware that I’m
Back where I started;
A stranger.
I always knew
He was different.
Even as I watched him
From the swings,
Kick a soccer ball
With his friends;
He didn’t fit in.
And I would never
Fit in with him.
The burden he carried,
With the look of confusion
And worry in his stare;
Told me he carried a weight
A child shouldn’t bear.
I was a stranger.
Watching him chase the soccer ball
And my hopes away.
The bell rings
And the crowd brushes by.
Noticing he doesn’t have
To try hard,
When he lingers away
Without looking me in the eye.
I’ll always be a stranger,
After all I thought I knew.
And those two months
Of kissing and smiles,
When he told me he loved me,
Was finally happy,
Are somewhere lost in the floor tiles
Which he would rather stare into now.
And when I drive by his house,
The windows remind me of his eyes.
Glass;
Shaded emotions
Revealing little to me.
And I’m always left wanting more,
But I’m on the outside.
A stranger.
The Mother Ship
The current pulls her along into oblivion.
She doesn’t sense the danger that lay ahead,
Instead focusing on her sleeping children.
Feeling their fragile bodies move with ever breath
As she rocks them to sleep in their beds.
And the waves crash against the jagged rocks
Splashing her with salty tears.
Aware of the closeness of death
As the waterfall nears.
And when her bow breaks,
Her babies will fall;
Off the edge of the earth
Captain, crew, and all.
"Until the 20th century, reality was everything humans could touch, smell, see, and hear.
Since the initial publication of the charted electromagnetic spectrum, humans have learned that what they can touch, smell, see, and hear, is less than one-millionth of reality."
I love incubus