The persistence
Of this gloomy eyed beauty
Smooth sailing out to sea
Where do you want me
It's your decision honey
In my reality or yours
Bad habits
Will We ever get this right
Bad habits
Faded out of sight
Señorita
I'm flying and knee deep
So let's hold hands
And get back down
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 10:55 AM UTC
Love is flooding my body, it's a strange feeling. I'm entrenched in vulnerability , every word held hostage. I was always running away from it , scared of it controlling me, scared of it destroying me. This time I'll dive into it with every inch of my being. I will soak my decisions in this emotion. I hope she doesn't know that she can **** me. Drop me from the heavens to faceplant in the concrete. That she is my vice, the one that rambles consciousness, scrambles my soul. **** a rock ,she's my mountain.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
This is the perfect scene
A man with a siliconed personality
A woman with a siliconed body
This is the perfect scene
People validating themselves through a handheld device.
The environment taken hostage under our pollution.
This is the perfect scene.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC
I see the horizon change when her eyes dry.
She's made of constellations.
I hold her soul with the deepest devotion.
The world hurts when she hurts, thunder and tropical storms.
Religion is a product of her.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Lying lives more then living nowadays,
Tedious times are the tormentor.
Moments passing minute by minute,
Never enough for the naturally ordinary.
Self-denial and delusions are deemed reality,
Irrational ideas seem more than illusions.
Loving loosely has become everyone's legacy,
Awake yourself, become aware of me.
Emotions are at a pinnacle.
I'm bursting with lust for self adulation. Don't ever attach yourself to external gratification.
She's caught in the crossfire of my self destruction.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
She's the habit I can't break.
My collective consciousness can't seem to collaborate with the world unless she's in it.
She's in the depths of my being, simmering just above the boiling point.
I have a maturing addiction to her, a mental hypnosis that lightens my darkness.
She's the habit I can't break.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
I pity you.
It's not the pity you would think.
I pity you because you do not know
what you are doing to yourself.
You are clawing on the inside,
your brain is melting into mush.
You are trying to hard to not
burst out crying.
I pity you because you think I still love you.
I do not love anymore,
that was only for seven months.
You do not know when to
let go.
I pity you because you still love me.
Anyone who loves me should be
pitied.
Seeing that I am someone who holds on.
I hold on to things I shouldn't like;
books, movies, people, blankets, and you.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Cigarette to her cherry chap stick coated lips again.
She keeps on smoking them saying she doesn't care if she dies, yet she's discreetly afraid of death.
She knows she should probably get off her *** and get a job, but she'd rather listen to the same song over and over and day dream about ******
scenarios.
She'd rather stay up late at night writing and wake up at 3, majority of her day already wasted. Downing coffee and telling herself that she'd wake up
early one day to greet the sun and admire it's beauty but reality devoured her, and she's under her sheets sleeping with her breast pressed against
her cream colored silk sheets.
She fell asleep watching asmr videos, too much of a baby to try astral projection and her window is wide open, bugs with wings flying in her room but yet she doesn't care, she likes the feeling of the cold wind on her legs.
Oh, how she wishes she were in a field somewhere, holding hands with another male or a female that loves her back as much as she loves them. She wishes that whoever loves her would lift up her skirt and lick their fingers after they venture down her legs and inside the blooming flower so many individuals have been trying to deflower.
Rolling naked in the grass, smiling, laughing.
She wants to look deep into someones eyes, not uttering a word, just in silence smiling. She wants to tuck their hair behind their ear, she wants to feel the heat of another person up against her, or the simple pads of anothers fingers cupping her breast. She longs for someone to touch her, yet she's
afraid of being touched. She's afraid of men, she's afraid of many things.
Her picky self thinks she see's the good in people yet they expose their true
colors she were too blind to see. She's so naive. Letting her thoughts unravel her like a Christmas ribbon, placing acid tabs under her tongue, smoking more **** and drinking too much.
Anything to numb the fact that the ones she desire don't desire her, and the ones that want her she acknowledges, but simply picks up with the pile of clothes on her floor and shoves them in her drawers she keeps telling herself that she'd sort out.
An unorganized, mess.
Her room, her life. Everything.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Be your own hope.
And find the one that makes it stronger.
Be your own love.
And find the one that makes it romantic.
Be your own light.
And find the one that makes it brighter.
Be your own inspiration.
And find the one that makes it into art.
Be your own determination.
And find the one that makes it happen.
Be your own fight.
And be your own victory.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
The manner of her tongue was a bit antiquated, yet her personality was heretical, rejecting traditions.
She is an ingenious paradox and I'm a little abashed to say that I'm in a state of extol.
However I came to the consensus that I will safeguard her inaudible heart, scorn every hint of dismay, and feed it to the vultures.
I have jettisoned my own grotesque nature, for she is my alleviation.
It might sound querulous, but she is the pinnacle of my languished existence.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC