I am a raindrop
Formed in the clouds
In the
Eye
Of a titanic storm.
My life
Rushessssss
Past my eyes
I am
Out of control
Flailing
Falling
Plunging
To my
Death
I wish I could
stop
And take
In the
World
Around me
But I'm long gone
Falling
Too
splat
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
I've seen hobos and hippies at bus stops
Goths, drunks and stoners
Pretty skinny girls with Starbucks in their pretty hands and leggings
Quiet girls with notebooks
Guys who are loud and always smiling
Guys who keep to themselves
People wearing a moustache and a skirt
Mothers with 6 children and a pet bird perched on their stroller
I always wonder of them
I have seen you
With your nice eyes
And silence
The quiet way you don't speak
How you always wear long sleeves
And I wonder about you
...Does anybody ever wonder about me?
I doubt it.
You have to be interesting, to be wondered about.
Or in a movie.
Or a book.
Or a fairytale.
You need to live in daydreams.
I think I need to move.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
"Not all who wander
are lost"
Yet still, I wonder
where am I
and where are we going?
But I know where I am
I'm in a library,
sipping a coffee
lost in my thoughts
Any of which range
from "what's for dinner?"
to "why am I here?"
Ranging from shallow
to deep.
My mind making
leap to leap.
Leaving me confused
and wondering,
Where am I
and where are we going?
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
Dear God,
Give me another family
Just so I may
Become something greater than
what I was supposed to
Because that's what you did
when saved Moses
from his eminent death
so perhaps
you can do the same for me
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
they say we are all made out of
stardust
if so,
i am a million black holes
and you are the brightest suns
in the universe.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
Sometimes on long car rides I look up to see something that's never changing, I look up at the stars hanging on a thread and the shadows on the moon. I think of my soulmate, are we looking up at the same night sky? I think of the ever changing society and it gives me hope to see the same stars. Then again, the stars are dead.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
I have a confession.
I don't know very much about trains. Actually, very little at all.
I know that they have a beginning and an end, and a whole lot of middle.
Kind of like life.
Trains can take you places,
From here to there
From old to new
From start to finish
But cars can do that. Planes can too.
So why do we take trains? They take so much longer.
Except, maybe that is the whole point; the real reason.
Time is never in abundance, and we are always rushing from one chore or job to the next with no time to take a break or rest or reflect or breathe.
Sitting on a train, with nowhere to go and no control over what time you arrive at your destination, you are forced to be calm.
To just sit, and perhaps even enjoy the moment.
In reality, this is what our goal in life should be: to take pleasure in the journey.
I have another confession.
I really want to ask you to take this train with me.
I want to enjoy this journey with you, ignoring the start and forgetting how soon or abrupt the ending could be.
I want to look at the scenery and talk about pretty things and drink yummy coffee and play footsie under the table.
For the first time in my life I want to be uncertain. I don't want to know when or where or how this will end.
I think there is a part of me that already knows where our next stop is, but I can't get the image of laughing with you out of my head.
Baby, let's just see where this thing takes us.
All I know is that you get my wheels turning and my heart racing.
All I know is our beginning and our end.
But darling, won't you fill me in on that whole lot of middle?
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
I don't know how you feel
But I know I like to hear the trains passing
As I lie in bed
I like to think you could love me
Raw and exposed
Like I've never been before
I can dream
And fall asleep knowing you won't leave me in the night
And get on the train I love
And I'll listen as you leave
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
the scars that line your wrists remind me of
fallen paper planes, like you
tried so hard to make it perfect, to
make it go places, to make it wonder
through hills but instead it went crashing down like
your tears midway, like it thought it was hopeless
you thought you were hopeless because all
the other planes had engines and
they were battery operated from the start,
so statuesque so perfect
they were trained from the start to stand tall,
****** in stomachs, labored breathing and it
hurts so much but it doesn't matter because they
were pretty, the best of the best
and you were just left in the dirt, stuck in the mud
like a fallen paper plane so you gave yourself
paper cuts because you thought you deserved it, you thought
that they were right, that everybody else was just born better than
you; they must've received some sort of memo
that you didn't because god it feels like that,
it feels like a bitter desperation and a lonely hatred all
at once because some part of you hates their beach blonde hair
and magazine worthy body
but the worst part is not watching them receive praise
and lead the life you can only dream about, no,
the worst part is knowing that no matter what
you will never be able to compare to them because
you are a fallen paper plane, filthy from the dirt you had fallen
in, scarred from the thoughts you can't turn off, and hopeless;
already too old to know better than false naivety
what they never tell you however,
is how easy it is to rebuild a paper
plane and how all batteries will expire
and one day, that certain shade of beach blond hair
will become discontinued and that
life goes on until it decides to stop
(h.l.)
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC