Dear E,

You’re my type.
Bruised fruit. Grounded bird. Poisoned pool
That we’re all jumping into
To save yourself (ourselves).

Doomed to feel it all
Or drown it away slowly
Until you’re a diluted version of yourself.

You’re a natural disaster;
I just tread through your wake.

Moth to a fucking flame..
I just can’t quit you.

I wonder what it was ( Read more... )

I'm doing this now..

http://asborealis.tumblr.com/

If any of you are on tumblr.. do come find me?

Sometimes when I am too tired to think, when my head hurts too much to see, or when my knees hurt too much to climb the stairs; I want to fold. Fold, withdraw, wave the little tiny, shiny, white flag from my corner of the field. I imagine myself crumpling into a heap and falling to the ground where I would instantly, quietly sleep. There wouldn’ ( Read more... )

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Plum Island right before snowstorm.


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This is an easy walk through flowering trees. This is a well lit path sprinkled with pretty scenery and I don't know what to do with myself. Hands fumbling for keys, eyes skipping across flashes that need to be inked. If I can choose, I'll keep this night. If it's not asking too much- I'll stay a while ( Read more... )

You don't know that I have a long history of running out into the street and leaving an open door behind me. I am a glass half full kind of girl who habitually leaves her glass on the bedside table, forgotten about and unattended to. You don't know that I can't stop thinking about what I think about you today ( Read more... )

I must admit ( Read more... )

Gibberish.
Can't sleep.
Can't quite explain why it is that I think I might benefit from writing something, anything, once in a while again. It might be because my life is a giant run-on sentence presently.

Overall, I feel it is pretty harmless.

Can't hurt; might help. My favorite.

One last thing ( Read more... )