i have trouble breathing sometimes, and i fight back tears that are going to be the end of me. this is weakness at it's strongest which is kind of weird when you think about it- if you can even think anymore. worst day ever topped off by heartless displays of no restraint and words slung at open wounds. i guess its my own fault for leaving myself ( Read more... )

Everything is so indecisive ( Read more... )

It would seem so few people understand human frailties. I see them always. My heart twists itself into a knot because I can't stand to see others be so oblivious to them, just speak or act so uncaringly and not even conceive a notion that it might be possible that they are having more effect upon something than they tried to ( Read more... )

I want to run through the woods and fill my lungs to bursting with crisp, fresh air and laughter and whisper melodies to butterflies and get all muddy and not mind at all and fall asleep under the trees, drunk from the smell of leaves and earth, and wake up in the sun, under a clear autumn sky. And you're the only other equally frivolous soul that ( Read more... )

Cause there's really no one I'd rather be mad at, annoy or be annoyed by.


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Painting poetry in the back of the submerged car
Submerged under smoke, under rain
Light blue still creaks from the sky
In the making for our faces even more beautiful
I hope we live this out.

I am.
Going.
Somewhere.
Beautiful.

Even if it's only in my mind.

I had forgotten the dull little stars wrapped in ( Read more... )

My slumber is a storm. It is a poet with the dreams of speaking the language of the city, it is summer's footprints whitewashed off the walls, it is a concrete face and a film about incest that drags on for far too long. The light swings away from my face and I do not believe in warmth any longer. The strange shape of my soul extends its hands and ( Read more... )

I consume these red days and their dirty thirsts with Venusian vigor, so you mustn't say I am not trying to improve. It's those horrible peacocks of girls that lift their dresses instead of thinking, lips swelling and eyes falling, those you must worry about. All those handsome disabilities of theirs creep the sky, and the wind becomes nicotine, ( Read more... )

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