It started as an ache,
An ache that always whispered:
"You'll never belong" but then
It became an obsession
of finding that belonging
but always knowing that I won't.
So what am I to do? A lost American
With generational displacement.
Do I keep searching
or try to find it in her (whoever she is)
or just mask it...
Until I die
Creating my own culture of melancholy
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Drinking alone,
I feel so happy.
Noone to judge me
and no reason to try to race home.
I'm not bored but I feel at peace
and that's the goal when you're trying to drown your past
So the plan came to fruition just hope there's no hangover.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:49 AM UTC
At this point I'd rather just be completely alone. Because then there's no facade that I'm never not alone.
And that's the thing that hurts me the most.
It's like I'm telling myself a lie always,
to cope with my hidden fear of being alone.
"Yeah you have this and that" but when I'm laying here alone in the dark trying to sleep all my thoughts creep and I know I'm truly alone.
And that's the only thing I need answered:
Why do I constantly feel this way?
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
Rosary touch
Clutch
Rush-ing
Is my new religion
I plead and beg
You're Lazarus
But I'm still dead
Rushing
Is my new Religion
I read you
Over and over
I please you
We're over We're over
Rushing is my religion
It's not new to me
It's new to you
Nightmares from a bottle
While I hang on a rood
Rushing is a religion
But it's just not new
Why?
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC
trees stand so tall
and the taller they stand
the more coveted they become
one chop won't break them
but one chop a day
and that tall tree will fall
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 9:05 PM UTC
Is it worth living if you have to tie a noose?
With each passing day
you make a new knot
on a new rope
With the hope that you'll live.
But in reality
you already have one on your neck
And each day you're making more and more
To look at.
You see all your mistakes,
Each rope spelling your
Flaws, tears, fears,
And yet you press on.
You create an illusion
A world where you're happy
You see yellow and green
and all those other happy colors
And do everything because you
Want to see everyone smile.
But you're gasping to stay alive
And then all you feel is blue.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 9:34 PM UTC
The one question ive been asking myself
What is love?
Is it the moonlit walks that give romance a name?
Is it that feeling of a fire building deeply inside?
Is it that butterfly that flutters when they call your name?
Is it the tears that flow down your face like a river?
Is it the shield that stops a bullet from piercing your skin?
Is it the choice to wake up everyday and say your feelings haven't changed?
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC
Retrograde.
There it goes,
out the park!!!
Look mom a ball,
Can I keep it?
With the first overall pick in the draft
The crowd roars.
This just breaking
"What ****
My client...
Freeze.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
Nothing can compare to the feeling of her. Nothing matches, she's one of a kind but with like any flower you have to let it go when it's dying. You can water it more, expose it to light but without the right grounding it'll wither away, and we both know true love stays. No matter the day or the feeling. True love never leaves, it will grieve it will sting but it'll never leave. It's like a fire it burns when you touch it and its hot when youre close but the more you're exposed the more it feels like home. Love is that I love you at the end of the day. Love is that argument that keeps you up all night. Love is compromise and making someone a priority. That's why love is so coveted because not everyone gets to experience the true nature of love. There is no finger pointing there is just ears ready to bear whatever noise you make, and to take every punch thrown. Love is beautiful, I do love you, but I don't think the love is mutual.
And that's okay.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
Scream over and over but it relaeases nothing. This hurts and I hope my seed wasn't planted. I hope it doesn't grow to be me or you. I hope it becomes its own and stands taller than me or you. I hope it knows both of us, and I hope it stays true. Stress stress stress none of it is cool.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC