-
(Untitled)
but you, you're so far away -- i miss your face, i miss your taste, i miss your shine
what do you do with this feeling?
i don't like it.
-
like the devil's in your hands.
man. i fucked up royally. -
(Untitled)
"if you, you are
the bolts that are making
the earth spin
then i have failed
to embrace the touch
of my own skin..."
it has come to my attention that i fail at making relationships work.
yes. admittedly, when it comes to falling in love, or anything resembling this, i just cannot get it right.
i am thinking that it is because i am not happy with ( Read more... ) -
be-lie-ve.
fallen.
in the shadows of a wide, old elm.
under a mottled canopy of jade paper leaves.
wildflowers, vivid gems,
dotted along the riverbank.
green-gold light filtering through the foliage.
in the warm, green grass,
lush, spring bed,
she lies.
she sings.
slow, sweet melody
like shadows,
dancing, swirling,
embracing the trees,
the ( Read more... ) -
pardon me while i burst into flames.
one of these days i'm going to spontaneously fucking combust.
and there is going to be no one to blame other than a few
very fucked-up boys that need to get punched in their fucking faces.
fuck.
"so take care what you ask of me.
cause i can't say 'no'."
-
work out your faith.
sermon.
breathing. speaking.
words falling from the lips of this kind of twisted angel,
this hollow-eyed faerie with a wisdom
only the broken beauty of youth can fathom.
“everyone needs a scapegoat.
someone to blame for their troubles,
their problems.
for a lot of people, that person is
god.”
cigarette smoke.
cherry red kiss on the end of her ( Read more... ) -
moving on is what you know i do best.
"but it's so hard to do when you're out in the midwest."
there are moments when it seems like running away from your problems will fix everything.
these are probably moments of weakness.
your moments of strength come about when you find it in yourself to face all of your problems with a smile and an open heart.
distractions are wonderful, and ( Read more... ) -
living. [reality.]
wind blows smog in my face, and the toes of my shoes match up with the very edge of the yellow line painted on the platform. i'm biting my lip, but i don't really know why.
do i stay, or do i go?
it's not as much of a question as i'm making it out to be.
his voice, on the wind, from a hundred feet away,
"you trust me, don't you?"
of course i do. ( Read more... )