Text
Winter Cemetery
'Hauntingly beautiful' has never more suited the truth
Than in a place like this, designed with both in mind.
And never more so than a day like this
With freshly lain snow draped across.
Forgive my intrusion, I mean no morbidity
Only the silent peace that comes with
A place of familiar structure a
And strangely beaultiful nature.
But allow me, as pittance
To do just the slightest service
That only finds value in symbolism.
How unfairly the snow rests
To hide away a few lives here and there
While the rest shine proudly in this picturesque scene.
And so I give you the wipe of my sleeve,
The warmth of my fingers that now prick and tingle,
And the extra moments of my time
That would otherwise be spent in nothingness.
Rest easy, as I stay restless.
0 notes
Note
i don't like soup what do you recommend
complete ego death and rebirth
25K notes
·
View notes
Text
I know what we are.
At least I think I do.
I know in your dirty thoughts and words,
In your memories of girls before me,
In your lustful tales of the present
That don't apply to me.
And I'm fine with all that.
I, too, enjoy freedom and flirtation,
The free drinks and night of comfort
Periodically invited in with impulse.
We have the same simple pleasures
And understaning of our humanity.
But why, then, do you tease me like that?
Not a sexual taunt or luring flirt,
But a whisper of something more.
Why do you reach for my hand in public?
Why do you bring it to your lips?
Why do you hold me so dearly?
Why you gently kiss atop my head?
Why do you ask what adventure is next?
Why are my heart and head so confused?
...why don't I know which reality I would rather?
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
You make it so hard.
When I first fell
It was your kindness
That drew me in.
And when I last fell
It was your kindness
That killed my heart.
How do you move on
When each step,
Even the end,
Is perfectly crafted?
How do you move on
When you make it so easy?
When you care so much?
When still speak gently?
You make it so hard.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Time, my old friend, my greatest enemy
How much of you is left there?
What much rots?
Time, old friend,
What of our lots?
How long? How long.
You taunt me as you always have.
Now drawn out.
Locked in space,
Always about.
How long? How long.
It lasts in eternity-
Oh the pain.
Longer, you say.
A lasting stain.
How long? How long.
Though the bright is also lasting,
Yes, I know,
Bubble moments
Also grow.
How long? How long.
Yet taut with movement of yet to come.
Be the end
Your talking point
Ask me when.
How long? How long.
0 notes
Text
Special shout out to the CEO of my company telling me to live on a house boat
1 note
·
View note
Text
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
The way freezer burned convenience store chocolate oce cream tasts like childhood
0 notes
Text
My toxic trait is that I like to eat the edible flowers they put on plates as decoration. They don't taste like anything, but I like the texture. I probably look a little crazy tho
0 notes
Text
I don't like that bathrooms are called bathrooms. Most of the time, there's no bath, and even when there is, it's not the primary function of the room. Restroom is okay but still a bit misleading. They should be called toilet rooms.
0 notes
Text
Secrets From My Lover
K*****, My Love, look away.
Allow me to hide my darkness from you-
Your gentle heart was not made for pain like mine.
See the smiles in joy,
Pressed lips in annoyance,
And soft eyes in our content moments that I relish.
But never see the secrets under my socks,
The sickening sounds beneath the strategically flowing faucet,
The shattered glass left to collect itself upon the bathroom floor.
Pay no mind to my absent moments,
When my humanity is gone from me,
And you are left to interpret a shell of a woman who can barely make excuses.
I’m sorry, My Love.
I may never be able to fix my brokenness,
But I can protect you from it.
1 note
·
View note
Text
I Eclipse Myself
The eclipse-
An inevitable defiance of the natural cycle of day and night,
The perfect child of the sun and the moon.
Spectacular. Blinding.
The eclipse never ceases from existance
But may only be whole for but a moment
And must spend the rest of time ripped apart.
As two halves endlessly separate and join,
Coutless seconds compound by the billion.
But even the greatest phenomina are helpless
To the forces of the universe.
For the universe creates, and the universe commands.
Within her, we are all but specs of matter.
What joy this is to the specitcal that converges with itself,
What tragedy to the coincidence that is torn apart.
0 notes
Text
Nowhere At All
As soon as tires touch tarmac,
An uncomfortable familiarity consumes me-
It’s different here;
The air is different here.
Back to the beginning
And all is as it always was.
Untouched, as if
I had never left.
Familiar faces are fixed
With an eternal smile and worn veneer.
Praise the Lord
And bless your heart!
Stretch and spread to speculate
What more can be bought with little money,
What more can be said
With little gossip.
Relentless repetition reminds me
Of who I once was,
Why I changed,
And the fear of stagnation.
People, places, things-
People, places, things-
People, places, things-
All the same.
Always the same-
I can’t stay here.
By their sweet, southern Baptist god,
I won’t stay here.
So, I leave…
Off to the vast, cold expansion of Elsewhere,
To find whether it is better
To be fixed in place or have no place at all.
0 notes
Text
Sometimes when I'm fuckin my man he keeps his shirt on and a couple of times it's been his Tupac shirt and I kept finding myself locking eyes with Pac...
0 notes