I do not understand why my shell is stronger than my soul
every single subconscious want is stuck in an eternal state of escape
slowly clawing away at my energy field
even the conscious thoughts I udder now are a work of my frontal lobe
a combination of fat and water that will one day be just that
what will it take for this exponentially real self of mine to erupt
too long I have sat in a puddle of this realization, this discomfort,
I am living as a shell of a person
stuck in a continuum of who I am and who I want to be
in this other reality, everything is an unexplored field
I am on a new level each time I turn the corner
no longer are there restraints
no longer do I feel this pain
my mind is not stuck in this body because I am my mind
I am my experience and that of which is experiencing me is my soul
soon drifting I become every electrical impulse,
and all of which is uncharged at the same time
no longer am I woman or even human
I am what is, what is not, and what always has been
now infinite, I escape
I am in love with your biological makeup
Your mess of countless diverse cells
The cells that form the epidermis that wraps around you and calls you home.
Those cells that are constantly replacing old for new
The dead layer unnoticeably falling off with no harm when you touch me.
The dead cells that make mine feel alive
To the point I only feel alive with your cells which are plummeting to death but regenerating mine back to life.
The cells that come together in an array of ways to compose your beautiful, yet, intriguing soul are the same ones that help compose who I am.
Even though the ones that touch me are dead, they are the ones that make me feel alive.
And I cannot live without them.
I've never really enjoyed Brown eyes, since mine are a shade of brown and Amber.
Yet, when I gaze into your dark brown eyes, I see life and feel emotions I never knew existed.
I don't know where it started, or how it began, but here I am sinking deeper and deeper.
With every breath my lungs become heavier and I sink even further.
With the burden of you and all you do, it's like a chain with a weight is atteached to my ankle, sinking deeper.
An oxygen tank, some air to finally breath.
Yet, the tank only has 5 minutes left
And I'm left sinking faster than ever
I don't really know
"Write and keep writing. Because a pen does not bleed for art; it scars for survival."
a personal quote
You used to be my cup of tea, now you're my cup of coffee with Bailey's
My version of a quote