Extraordinary.
She is everything to me.
The moon within you.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
Oh self, gardener of mistakes.
The trees I planted grew sideways, giving shade only when I need it, never when I want.
Oh her, gardener of nervous hearts.
The tiny little buh-bump, buh-bumps of the night haunt my mind.
But they leave me thinking she's got countless petals and seeds trespassing in me.
And I am still learning if I should embrace them in the soil,
Or if I should dig them up before I get too attached.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
Stay awake with me late at night.
When my sadness and anxiety creating frights.
When your ghosts haunt you so badly that you want to shut down.
But we both desire no crowns.
Nor do we desire riches.
We want comfortable times.
Lovely things reinforcing our prime.
We want to feel okay.
We want to feel fine.
At the end of the day.
I am neither yours nor are you mine.
But I'll love you.
And you'll comfort me.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
Up in his attic, the astronomer observed both the heavens and the denizens. The celestial bodies overseeing both the miserable and the elated, without discrimination, nor with benevolence.
And the astronomer found that every night, he was not the only one observing the deep blue sea in the sky, admiring the bright jellyfish soaring slowly through the endless expanse. From hopeful young children to the sad war veteran, many people stared up at the night sky. The difference between him and them was that he studied the sky for a living, they studied it for life.
One night, the astronomer heard little whisps of a boy's hope. In that tiny yet significantly booming voice he asked, he pleaded, "Please cure my sadness". The astronomer looked down and in his yard was the malnourished looking boy. He couldn't have been no older than twelve but even so, he was wishing for happiness. They both admired the same star, away from the constellations, the smallest yet brightest. The most enduring, yet the least impressive. The perfect definition for a lucky star.
• \/\/\/ • \/\/\/ • \/\/\/ • \/\/\/
Down inside the dumpster, the boy hid. It smelled like what he thought the dead smelled like after several days of rotting without enough love. It was appropriate. The people who sent him out both declared him dead and unlovable.
Yet he was alive, in the garbage. Yet he felt warm, in that forgotten place. He felt grateful, yet hungry.
flash bump crash
The boy would peek out from his smelly castle, and found fresh food and clean clothes. There was naught but a note, "From your lucky star"
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
It was up there, on the roof of his tall, hollow building where he found his first love picking her favorite flowers out of the old garden. It was up there, where the wind blows, and where intertwined flowers kiss, that he felt like he was truly alone.
It was down there, in his basement, where the man felt safe enough to cry. It was down there, in his personal hell, where he had a prepared noose, for the next girl to ****** him with.
"Love me" he choked out. "Someone please love me. I swear I'll fix everything if someone loved me." he pleaded. But alas, the man's ways of self destruction attracted only the company of his inner thoughts, and his headaches that followed.
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel like I'm not really here.
Whether it be the lack of self assurance or the constant fear.
I feel like I don't really matter.
To help myself not shatter.
I remember.
Those lovely, lonely nights in December.
I reminisce.
In how I used to enjoy this.
In how I used to be.
I used to be me.
I used to be me loving you.
And at some point that became so untrue.
These memories are not perfect.
Yet they are mine.
Things of the past made me feel like ****
I was never fine.
But these memories belong to me.
They make me who I am.
I just need to remember who I am.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
I'm going to miss this place,
with it's countless amount of forgettable faces.
I'm going to miss this home,
although for three years, I felt alone.
I'm going to miss this shelter,
but sometimes it made me feel like a cave dweller.
The time went by so fast and yet so slow.
I've got a lot of people to thank or hate so,
thanks to every person that made me feel like I meant something.
And to every person who made me feel like I meant nothing,
I hate you.
Childishly so.
I graduated.
I haven't grown up.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
When I am lonely,
Or you're happy,
I get drowsy.
And everytime I close my eyes.
I can hear myself cry.
I can hear you baking your pies.
So close to my ear.
Feels like you're really here.
Warm and comfortably numb with fear.
I wish you stayed.
I wish I went.
I wish we were together.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 2:28 AM UTC
I wish for those days.
Where the tips of my fingers are cold,
And my insides are warm.
I desire those nights.
Where the headaches slowly arrive.
And the comforting tears flow.
I want those rare winter times.
Where there are pink skies within me.
And stormy nights.
Rain in California.
Love on my lips.
Peace contained in your eyes.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
A pretty flower for a pretty face. Oh how I wonder where you go during my days. To the museums you adore. To gardens and to the sea shores. Wherever you go. I'll find a pretty flower for your pretty face. A garden for every summer I remember you. And silently smile.
I once said that people have atmosphere's within them. Worlds in their eyes. And a massive collection of fireworks on their tongues. And I once wanted to have her atmosphere to make it rain within me. I wanted her comfortable nights to coincide with my anxious days. And I wanted to feel the slow explosions on my tongue. I wanted her. Not for how cute she is. Not for how lovely she is every day to everyone around her. For the smiles I earn. For that tiny grin that assures me for a few nanoseconds that I do have a reason for being here.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 1:57 AM UTC