We are critical.
We find flaws in
everything we see
wants to write
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
2. We are never satisfied.
We live our lives upon
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
3. We never forget.
We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
4. We are fickle.**
Our emotions flash
to the other
like strobe lighting that
until we feel as if
will never be still.
5. We are exposed.
We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
you to find
6. We are vulnerable.
We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.
7. We will never stop.
We will never stop
we will never stop
we will never stop
even though the cycle
and we know what's
We are addicted
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
I've got so many dreams in my mind they're getting forced out of my ears
and I've got such a cloudy mind that I've been told it's said to be a burden.
but up here,
The sky is just so near,
the air smells so clear,
the stars hide in the back of my mind.
The earth lies below reflected in sparkling silver lining.
quiet goodbyes, white lies and too many signs
constantly drowning in golden moonlight.
it's the fact I'm floating above it all, scaling the mountaintops,
constantly grasping onto tree branches with my numb fingertips and I've got icy cold wind running through my wings and they're frozen but it's comforting.
there's a shocking chill the runs down your spine the reminds you what it's like to still alive.
it runs through your mind, your eyes, your veins.
maybe it'll make you realize you've been blind the entire time.
so just for a split second you squeeze your eyes and in a flash of light you see.
I've spent my lifetime being found and maybe once, maybe just once I'd like to get lost.
one day I'll stand tall and hold the world in my hands,
have the ocean water seep into the cracks in my sore palms and all at once I'll know every story of every heart and head and hero that wants they're story told.
and I've learnt that either the whole world will either open itself up or eat me whole
in different shades of white black and pale indigo,
as of now I can't tell which, maybe both.
but time will always surely tell.
you used to hide me like a bomb underground,
or wear me like a noose around your fragile neck,
but it was I who was chocking on your white lies
and holding into the memories with my brittle bones.
i could read your thoughts from a distance,
your heartbeat was like the sound of pills
pouring into my vibrating hands.
there were different,
more efficient ways to lose your life,
but for some odd reason,
i chose you.
When I look at you Id like to
think the frown is temporary and the
tears in your eyes are from a
flick of caught dust
Id like to believe you wear sweaters
even during summer
because you had an odd shaped
but what i know is, that frown has
been temporary one to many
days and the teary eyes from caught dust is actually from the
abuse of words and i know
you wear sweaters even in summer
because the texture on your
skin is from the kindness of a razor
and as the blade digs deeper id only
like to believe flowers grow
upon the next mark
and i only hope one day,
flowers wont grow just
there but everywhere.
isn't the main point of writing is to write
how YOU feel about ANYTHING
even if there are most
or few who don't agree
is a discrimination
filling all emotions with frustration
trying to send help of communication
to a genius
showing no blood relation
in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx
introducing a collaboration
with letters sends a illustration
to the mind causing hallucination
just a pigment of imagination
desperately needing a detoxification
to wrap your thoughts around this generation
seeking the need for popularization
but the mind is in a mental restriction
start a petition
to conquer the satan of calculation
but so far no documentation
of the closed corporation
of the mad minded mathematician
so you're living in devastation
suffering while you work at a gas station
from no graduation
or thoughtful congratulations
all because you forgot the capitalization
for a math symbol
on a test
because of the lack of specification
Make a reservation
for the realization
the distance between us is a mystery,
I'd much rather it not be history.
for your words fills my confidence,
please take control on my dominance.
we shall not ever incorporate sorrow,
until there is no light of tomorrow.