A face in a crowd.
The last memory my father has of his father is his face in a crowd.
The last time I saw my father, with my own two eyes, I was in that crowd.
I can not explain what I felt.
Because I never let myself feel yet.
But I know, these heart dropping, bone shivering truths are brewing up a sick storm inside of my stomach.
Theyre turning me inside out
And my world upside down.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
Black and white films
Foreign are her favorite
Something about the way they make it
A little room for the imagination...i suppose...i suppose i could make it.
Instead ill think of it.
I thought of the feeling you gave me last night.
When i haven't talked to you for at least another year,
Maybe next time you said.
I still recite our last talk in my head.
Sitting in your driveway.
Your boyfriend sat inside.
He had an open mind.
Besides, we're just friends.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Memories of us as the sun set fire to everything I touch.
Hands to myself and forget the idea of love.
Our light has dwindled out.
All that remains is a broken bulb
hanging above
the bed, in the attic of my head.
Scattered shards of glass surrounding comfort.
Every night I walk on our broken dreams and bleed before I get to sleep.
I just lay in the shadow of my past looking for lines you once said.
Only to bury the words again.
Maybe it would make more sense if I stopped resurrecting the dead.
There's a piece of me, no longer alive.
From me to you is a far drive.
So I dig in the dark attic for old and removable parts to repair my broken car. Flashing my lights at anyone who could be you.
Because you're the only one who can see it too.
Our connection is as consistent as me quitting bad habits
For instance, cigarettes, but how could I know when I still haven't?
I crave but can barely manage.
I'm on and off in strange patterns.
A rusty pull chain hanging from the socket
Stuck with our questions to questions, irrational logic.
I asked "why do you always escape from what you wanted?"
You slowly whispered "how else would you know if you really got it.".
I guess I'll figure it as I smoke another cigarette.
I take a hit, before exhaling, i stare up at the sun.
Close my eyes and think of you.
I imagine the smoke soaking up everything I ever wanted to tell you.
Plans, ideas, thoughts, and the rawest feelings I have ever had.
Once it feels right I open my eyes to the empty sky and exhale.
An emotional release.
February air will condense these dreams on to your car window.
You will wipe them off to find your way home.
The last thing you said before you left, "Just keep thinking of me And We'll meet again"
There has to be another chapter before the end of this story being written in my head.
But love and love lost is the ink to my pen of thoughts.
Let it leak in my sleep. Knowing I'll wake up to her gone.
But its okay.
She left the chorus for my song.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
Blood rushes and oxygen depletes
Hidden beneath eyelids, I dare myself to breathe
I become lightheaded as I am relieved
a piece of darkness from my heavy heart
The acoustics of silence screeches
with rising pitches to match the increases of contrast
This white-out has interrupted my mental broadcast
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 4:18 PM UTC
Sometimes I forget what I'm trying to do.
Then I remember, I never really knew.
can't make up my mind. I'm a mess.
Teen angst changed to depression
All I think about is life and death
Death and Dying. A ****** Obsession
It's hard trying to understand the world
when the world can't understand me.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC