I don't feel like a happy person.
I don't feel like a happy person.
I feel like years of yearning would feel, grasping at dreams in the daylight.
I feel like guitars strumming, ghostlike.
I feel like wasted space and blurred lines, the weight of a song deftly moving in my head.
I never want to allow anything to hurt me again, I could promise. I want so much to walk the large, well-lit autumn-rimmed clear haven streets and not look back, always with destination. I am an artist not creating, I stagnate. I run.
The crying thunder breaks my fears into bugs and mud, it seeps through and out the pores and cracks of my skin. Somehow when the world decides to off you, a good night of sleep doesn't quite feel like the solution. How can I sleep with death swift under my eyes?
Confirm the beauty in my lack of rendition, and the galaxies deep in the creek of my dying summer heart.
Why are the night and day so different?; and do they have to be?
There's nothing tangible anymore in the seatbeltless buses of the south province (that's where I'm stuck). I crave one thing, but I know it's only a gap, a void I'm trying to fill. I can't stay here anymore is the only refrain that made sense to me when I sobbed it out loud.
So good riddance to my selfish fears and my hypocrisy. Hello new world, I am yours and you are mine.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
Life is like this greyish purple sky, - or is it smoke? - a strange and foreign concept, Life here in the most vivid and true sense of the word. The everlast of screen-bright polaroid collections and radio station lovesongs play up the impossibilities of any kind of breathe and let go, of give yourself kindly, irremediably and unbridled.
But no white plastic frame can tame a nose's redness, from the sun's kiss or a frosty, tender January bite. Love-in-the-making is an art, so I'll try not to lose it.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
what if i keep my nails long to curve them into my skin
and what if i strangle myself at night?
does it matter if i dream that i'm a smoker
if it made my mother sad
if i bruise my legs, if i pinch and tear myself apart
i pick scabs to watch the skin grow back
right before my eyes
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
she walks the street in the crying, baby breath morning
where the shoreline is the sky,
the greyness and the damp east coast afternoons
what's left in her heart anyway?
her hair parts
she strides into the full and the lighted
the open bars and the gentlemen
soft evening glow that catches the photograph
for all the memories and the bitterness,
is it true people fall in love?
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
lately i've needed the color blue
the thought of crawling into bed
the songs about denver and seattle and the late-night flights across the continent, my love
i need a haven for my dreams, and a place to rest my head
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
it took me years to realize
it's always harder at night
and that i would **** for the moon
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
i am flawed
but alex this is all we are; our mothers' melatonin
the reflection of the sun in your teeth leads me to believe our time is up
& the softness of my thighs against your hand stops the world from spinning blue
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
it's a long way from the cradle to the unmade bed
realizing you have to fight for your own happiness
cause nobody's got it easy
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
by the california suns and
the twelve thousand likes on your instagram
i raise my glass to you
let's leave the world behind, breaks all laws
make the angels cry
scream at the top of our lungs
tonight life is light but my eyelids got droopy fast
i love you though, i'll try to hang on to memories of you
while i sleep through the next hours
right into my next fit of anxiety
coddled between my sunglasses & your self-portraits
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
i give up
on being kind, i simply don't deserve it
you know me better than i know myself
so which is it?
law or chaos? or freedom?
i found being a lunatic does not grant
you peace of mind; on the contrary
yearning for wind in your hair
makes it hurt more when you
end up sheltered again
but in all truth, freedom true too
sounds exhausting
especially
when you don't deserve to live
the girl who cried wolf
with her smiles and band-aids
only kids with innocence ever worry
about me anymore
others keep their eyes shut because
they're sick of watching me fall
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC