When you exist to not exist
When the colors of your hair are bathed in the deepest green of absynthe
When it's quiet but never been so excruciatingly pervasive
Where can I find my peace
Are we in balance or just in limbo?
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC
Finally, finally, you see
life was not meant to be easy
Stop counting the ways in which the world forgot to do you a favor
You'll be far more proud of all the times you got up
when your ribs were crushed
Your face shoved in the mud
Everything stripped away
And you kept on going anyway
You have to hit rock bottom before you can make sense of your climb
You can only kiss the feet of giants
when you have tasted the defeat's sobering red wine.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
What was it you were looking for?
Someone to hold you close and keep you warm?
Someone for you who will brave the storm
of the O'ercast and unlit path
Someone who dreams of you the way you can never see yourself
Or who takes the place of morning liquors
Who holds your hand into the sky
Who draws your aching lips neigh
But who could they be
This mystical, shapeless human dream?
A fantastical illusion of mass "perhaps"
Drink down the bitter relapse
They are not the one
And neither are you
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
The thing about life is I don’t think there’s just one overlaying statement for all of humanity
We ask “Why?” but I don’t think we realize that, truly, out of nearly 7.4 billion people, there cannot possibly be an answer as to why we all exist. There cannot be one simple statement to define the reason as to why every single person of this race, our race, exists, because everyone has a different reason for it.
Or maybe that’s the answer
Maybe the answer to “Why?” is “Because there are 7.4 billion different reasons.”
Maybe it’s just that everyone has their own answer to why.
I remember I used to think that the reason we all existed was because the only other option was to not exist. But I think it’s not that simple, modern humans aren’t so primitive and instinctual anymore, our sixth sense has been forgotten somewhere, dormant in our genes, our very DNA.
The most modern **** species, **** sapien sapien, is a far more mentally evolved being from the first **** species. And because of that, our reasoning for living has evolved with us. There are, indeed, 7.4 billion answers to “Why?”, but I think that’s the overall answer for our species.
“Why?” “There are 7.4 billion reasons. Mine is ________.”
Nonetheless, life is a beautiful thing. Find your reason.
And, maybe, just maybe, make it something a little more than existing just because the only other option is not existing.
:;,
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:04 PM UTC
There are days in which you are alive
There are days in which you feel alive
:;,
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
How can I not chase it?
The rapidly fading,
No-chance-to-hold-near,
Elusive and routine-extinguished it
That something that makes you want to quit your job
Makes you want to sell your things
And cut off all connections with people who have stopped halfway to the finish line
The thing that frightens you when you think it has passed you by
How can I not chase that illuminating, soul awakening,
Widely possible yet technically implausible it?
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 5:38 PM UTC
I though about him again today
Or should I say
I never stopped
But this time it wasn't about
His voice
or his mannerisms
Or the way his hands would lead me around
By the small of may back
Today I thought about how I let him get to me
How I wanted to hold on so tight to something that wasn't mine
I considered the facts
analyzed my options and the supporting evidence
Turns out I romanticized you to the point of giving you life
I gave you meaning and depth and soul
I gave you what I wanted you to already have
But you, unfortunately my dear
Have none of that
In bearing all of those things I value so close to my soul,
You have no interest
So I am gathering these up and taking them with me
Never again to dump my treasures so haplessly at some poor shmuck's feet...
To keep them near may mean that some of us are going to live and die alone.
It was unfair of me to expect you to be anything more than a coincidence of mother nature and father time
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
He told me that he would need
A new couch and a rug to match
Curtains that covered the ugly window latch
"A table for five even though it's just me,
But what if the family comes over;
Where would they eat?"
He thought that he would need
A place to keep those books he never read
"The art of the paperback might as well be dead"
Wood stains to make it all look nice
As if DIY crafts were even his type
Perhaps some new bowls would do
And all new silverware too
"I need more pots and pans
And towels for drying my two hands
A fancy coffee mug that suits just me"
Or maybe for a dollar, he'll buy three
More pens to replace the ones he's lost
No need to consider money, these things are worth the cost
Perhaps one box of cereal will suffice
He has too much food for one person
Guess he'll feed the mice
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
I keep my box in the back corner of my closet
Behind the shoes and last year's projects
It is a boring little box, wouldn't want anyone who stumbles upon it to think to peek inside
The cardboard is slowly peeling away from itself
Pieces of tape slashed across the top
But the box keeps things neat and tidy
Sometimes I feel like opening it up, ripping the tape off
And sifting through it all to see if anything has changed,
giving everything inside away to interesting people.
But I have seen you make that mistake before
It usually ends in drama
The kind of pain that ruins your mascara
Destroys the walls people have so carefully built
Blasts through sensibility
I keep them in that drab box for one reason only
Emotions are messy
I'd rather not
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:41 PM UTC
I used to have to wait for the snow to fall to feel true silence
because that isn't something you hear,
That would defeat the point of silence.
No, silence is something visceral. It has depth and sensation.
I remember the first time I felt it when it wasn't snowing.
The final whispers of summer air were slipping through my fingers as I sat with my knees to my chest in a plastic Adirondack chair.
You tend to hear a lot about all of these 2 AM thinkers, I guess none of them were out that night.
There, I looked up and could see every star in the sky
The hazy strip of light of our corner of spacious vacuum. The constellations for which I had learned the stories by heart.
I suppose the moment
would have been romantic had I chosen to share it with someone but
I wanted this for myself.
There was silence. An orchestra of solitude, and peace, and total disregard for what comes next.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC