a perfect half hour drive
with a perfect sunset keeping me high
and a perfect soundtrack buzzing
in my perfect battered car
down a perfect country lane
lined with green waves
and soft bluebells
smudging the hard lines of winter away
the air is still cold
but this evening is too perfect
to notice
or care
and i realise i have been driving
with a smile greeting stranger's stares.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
If i could
i would take that smile
and inject it directly
into my bloodstream
my parents warned me
about drugs in baggies
sold on the street
but never the ones
with teeth
and a heartbeat
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
why do people think that the world revolves around themselves? why do people have this perspective of the world, that one day, the sun's rays are going to die off and never come back, and we'll have no sunshine and a way of life?
why do people think that what goes around comes back around? not everything and anyone are capable to come back after every bad and good incident? why do people think that just because there is one bad person who broke your trust and your strength, the rest of your life and whoever enters it will be bad? what about the good people? will the good people return after death and embrace you in their broken bones? will that ever satisfy your desires?
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
you and me,
holding hands,
in the sunset.
we fall in love.
we were planing our wedding.
then all of a sudden,
briiing, brinnng.
my alarm goes off.
now, my excuse is insomnia,
so i dont have to go back to sleep.
i am afraid;
because,in my fantasy world,
everything is perfect and real.
but then,my alarm goes off,
and i wake up.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
nothing is ever finished
do not believe in the definitive
life is a spectrum
black and white exists
to those who live fixed
wander
grey is the colour
of a question
that has no answer.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
You write so beautifully
In the dead of night;
03;47am
Most people are asleep,
Their minds at a rest.
But you;
You are a wild fire,
Your thoughts are fireworks
exploding through your veins.
Every idea that comes to mind,
Becomes art;
Scribbled on a page,
Desperate to form
In the real world.
Thinking is a necessity,
Without it we would go mad.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC