dan-shalev
I love writing down ideas and anecdotes I think people would relate to and appreciate. It seems to me we all think the same things, yet have impossibly different ways of expressing or speaking to them. / Hope you enjoy my writing, would love to help you with yours, / Yours in friendship, / / Dan
Tell me sweet lies. I want to get lost in your thoughts.
I want to let your emotions wash over me.
Because I have feelings for you, of which I am scared. I am only a fool for you.
Tell me pretty lies, say that you love me. Lie if you must, because I am only a fool for you.
I want to get lost in your love. Because my feeling for you disorient me. They nourish and suffocate me. You're the only thing I think about, and I act like I don't even care. Tell me your pretty lies, and tell me again that you love me.
I want to believe your lies, let me drift into the night believing. I am only a fool for you.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
Touch me, see me, know me.
Read my words, heed my wisdom, embrace my passion.
Live with me, trust in me, love with me.
Be mine - now, and forever.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
As we made our way up the mythic Greek ruins of a castle that is no more, she turned to me, smiling. Her gorgeous smile and lush hair glistened in the sun, rivaling the beauty of the raw nature that surrounded us.
As we stood facing each other on the old stone steps, she reached her hand out and grabbed mine.
"I love you", she said.
"I always will", I replied.
Standing atop the highest tower of the ruined castle we gazed at the calm blue ocean, the wind softly brushing against our skin, holding one another gently, swaying.
"Do you think it'll always be this way?" she asked, with true wonder in her voice.
"Always", I replied.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
On a cold foggy morning in the ****** dunes some leagues from my home I rode down a path unknown.
The trecherous sand pulled the wheels of my bicycle down into the earth, deterring me from completing the upward climb towards the top of the promising dune.
With my feet in the sand and besieged by fog, I surveyed my surroundings and found that I was completely alone.
Weakened by the arduous journey through the dunes and unable to cycle, I pushed the bicycle aside and dropped on my knees to face the sand.
Alone and halfway up an unrelenting dune, I was overcome by a sobering reality that shook me to my core; the elements care not for our humanly struggles and, with no warning nor a shred of notice, could, and likely will, decimate us.
With renewed strength and strong will to conquer the dune I picked my bicycle up from the sand and pushed upwards.
As I scaled the dune and finally reached the top, I gazed upon my surroundings panoramically, realizing the alarming yet beautiful reality; Though alone in parts unknown, I was surrounded by nature that embraced me and showed me its true beauty as reward for overcoming its many challenges.
With sand at my feet and fog all around, I no longer felt alone. I had myself and nature to keep me company, and that is all I needed.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 8:31 AM UTC
In an early morning dream I was sat next to a woman on a train whom I fell in love with.
Her captivating smile and red hair are but a few figments of that dream that yet linger in my memory.
Entranced by a conversation I cannot recall, and infatuated with a woman I cannot picture, I eagerly fall asleep at night, moronically hoping she'll come again.
What I do remember of our dreamly encounter I cherish with great pleasure. I cannot help but feel paradoxically content yet bothered by the realization my most recently cherished conversation is one I have, in fact, never had.
In an early morning dream she came, and for the briefest of moments filled my world with warmth and endless curiosity. And just like the ether from which she came, she withered into inexistence upon my awakening.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
Social media reeks of hate and prejudice.
Every discussion and every post only plays into the hands
of the ill-informed imbeciles who corrupt it with their idiocy.
Why bother with social networks? The news we receive are all biased or false.
Why bother participating in discussions? They all lead to more hate.
It seems that the only true form of honest, respectful discourse remains physically between discussants,
where people must own up to their words under threat of shame.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 9:38 AM UTC
I once knew a man who rose at dawn.
Inspirational, he was, kindling fires of purpose in the
hearts of young men.
Striking fear in his foes, and comfort in his kin.
Strong he was, the man who rose at dawn.
Many have wondered who he was and where he had come from,
and whether it was he who rose at dawn, or had dawn rose to greet him.
Without fear or trepidation he rose at dawn,
welcoming the beginning of each day with a song.
We ought to asks ourselves where he is, the man who rises at dawn.
We ought to reach the deepest chambers of our hearts and wonder,
are we the man who rises at dawn.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
He cocked the gun and pulled the trigger.
"He couldn't handle the disabled life", they wept.
Though he wasn't perceived as the sharpest of all,
in the end, he was the most compassionate and, perhaps,
wisest.
He cocked that dreadful gun and pulled that horrid trigger.
"This was no accident", they lividly proclaimed.
And though his faculties failed him he went on,
until the very end,
the most caring and, perhaps,
wisest.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
Weakened by life and roughened by time she returns to her home,
now a cradle of baseless hope.
Blissfully ignorant she starts her days, hopeful,
only to routinely end them deceived by life, debased.
Nihilism greets her in the beginning of each morn, feeding on what is left of her dreams.
Burned cigarettes fill her ashtray and empty liquir bottles dress her excuse for a living room. A mucky, stained carpet ties the room she is forced to call a bedroom.
Destitute and devoid of reason she contemplates her purpose.
"Purpose?" she wonders.
Perhaps some people simply don't have a purpose.
Perhaps a lost soul, like her, has no purpose.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
With a heavy heart and one-luggage-too-many she hurried to her
boarding gate in an attempt to catch her flight.
Just before going through security she stopped and turned, and teary-eyed asked: "will I see you again?"
Unable to speak or console her he held her tightly, stroking her hair gently and caressing her back softly.
"In another life, dear."
In another life.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 1:56 PM UTC