write it downMy notebooks, you're losing reception; your struggles to channel me back to the places you once brought me have become utter failures. Are you dead when nobody is paging through you? Does the past need to sneak its glances just to look at you? Because so seldom am I satisfied with the glances that I take in hindsight ( Read more... )

Slipping down the serrated air, scattered white soldiers ( Read more... )

the hand ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

it meansI am no longer concrete; rather I am a timeless idea, drifting multi-directionally throughout the legroom of space and time. Sometimes I catch myself longing to be remembered in a strange ambiance that I was once discovered in. On a few of the warmer nights, both their ears rang gently with quiet rounds of nervous laughter. Uncertain ( Read more... )

ideas from 5:53I remember when it still felt like I was sitting on handfuls of time; I used to imagine huge clusters of all the moments I had left parachuting around me, patching up tiny segments of the ever-stretching void I’d created in my temperament. Well, needless to say, that stopped ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

and they touch their foreheads together just like"Enough waiting ( Read more... )