Maybe it's the whiskey or
maybe it's just me.
I want to be in another world
away from all this petty ****
I want to be alone with this cigarette
away from all this talk.
Away from all these thieves.
Thieves of my solitude, thieves
of my mind.
You've stolen my sense of me.
I have been robbed of my sanity
by the fools of this place.
Not this city, not this state.
I have been robbed of me.
I cannot find peace in this god forsaken place.
I cannot breathe.
This cigarette doesn't help, but this
is all I have.
The whiskey and this cigarette.
My lungs full of glee.
Maybe it's the whiskey.
But really, it's just me.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
I saw the rain coming,
and I knew you were leaving.
But I still feel the weight of the world
heavy on my heart.
My pulse beats hard in my throat,
and I know it will never be the same.
It will beat forevermore with a reminiscence of how gently and blindly you touched it.
Time will continue to pass.
And I will taste your name with each breath I take.
The seasons will continue to change.
And I will wake each morning to the sight of your absence.
Life will continue on in your wake.
And the weight of the world will remain
heavy on my heart.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
I want to live
above time.
I want to live
without reason and without expectation.
I want no standards or plans.
I want to live
anomalously.
I want to forget the past
and forget the future.
I want to discover.
Not land, not equations,
not anything of the sort.
I want to discover me.
I want to discover the unknown.
I want to discover you.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
There are some wounds so deep,
some wounds so irreparable,
that they cannot be cured.
These are wounds inflicted upon the heart.
These are wounds inflicted upon the mind.
These are wounds inflicted upon the soul.
These wounds are like a terminal illness.
They are like an incurable disease.
They make you a ***** within humanity.
They isolate you and destroy you.
This disease is initiated by the deterioration
of the mind through the realization that this
is an unnatural, man made, test tube and wired reality.
This is all wrong.
We are all wrong.
It is catalyzed by the deterioration of the heart,
once having experienced the pure cruelty of humanity.
It unveils the fantastic false creation of love and the mere
idea that people have ever given a **** about you.
It exposes the destructive outcome of hoping for
anything beyond your own control.
It is completed by the deterioration of the soul.
A lengthy but significant process that rids you
of your motivation to open your eyes to the
blank ceiling above you every morning.
It strips you of your ability to feel.
And, suddenly, you have lost your desire to wake.
These wounds…they are a terminal illness.
They are an incurable disease.
They are irreparable.
They are unyielding.
They are permanent.
And they are destroying me.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
When does one begin to feel again?
When does one stop feeling to begin with?
An end brings with it a new beginning,
as a new beginning will at some time end.
So, what is the point of it all, if we're being frank?
Quite frankly, I’m beginning to think there was never
any point to begin with at at all.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
We build expectations.
These expectations only set us up for disappointment.
Thereafter, we search for reason.
Yet, there is never reason.
That’s okay, though, because reason isn’t enough.
We really only want truth.
But truth is only what you allow it to be.
So what are we really searching for after all?
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
There comes a time when it is necessary to leave your own reality.
It becomes essential to escape your thoughts and enter the mind of another.
There comes a time when a book is all that will suffice.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
I have the world in my palm.
I am sitting where the land ends
and the sky begins.
Beauty is in all that my eyes encounter.
My mind is turning inside out.
It is capturing these wonders;
committing them to memory for a later date.
Confused and bruised by existence,
we are all strangers to this place.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
These words fumble out of my mouth
like building blocks of a clumsy child.
They are innocent, unaware;
puerile, if I dare.
But frivolous as they seem,
they have been uprooted from the
dusty corners of my heart.
They are defenseless and exposed.
I cup my hands in a poor attempt to
collect these impulsions that stream
from my lips.
Too late, they delved themselves into you
like daggers from my hands;
and for that, I am sorry.
I aim with good intentions, these weapons at the tip of my tongue.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
We are in a timeless world that is coming to an end
so quickly that we are fooled to believe
that we have a
lifetime ahead of us.
What is a lifetime when it varies
with each day?
What is a lifetime when we test this unknown entity
with every minute of the hour?
We are fools.
We are afraid of that which we do not know.
We are fearful for our hearts, for our trust,
for our sanity..but we are broken and skeptical
and all mad anyways.
What are we fearing for?
We are fearing for our past and
it does not make sense.
Love is falling into one another.
I want to fall into the puddle of your sorrow
and your madness and your beautifully
expired colors.
I am a new puddle.
One you have yet to let touch your skin.
I am not merely a reflection on the surface
waiting to be disrupted by you diving head first.
I am not an illusion.
I am not your past.
I am not all these fears that sleep in your veins.
Won’t you see?
We are fearing a lifetime that we
have never seen.
We are unaware and foolish and naive,
and we have these vague ideas that all that exists
is that which we have already seen.
We are fools.
I want to fall into your foolish puddle of expired colors.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC