sorry i'm not pretty enough to be delicate
(sometimes my hands shake but i still don't look fragile)
i'd rather look like nails and a hammer anyway

***, hot water, whisking,
smoothly blended, tea bowl, spring,
tea garden, thick, quiet.

the air outside was cold
the air inside lingered with the sweet smell of sweat and raw skin
the bed was consumed and the sheets were tossed
it's 3am and although it seems that time stands still when they're together, the snow still falls and the wind whispers secrets like he whispers in her ear 'i love you'
it's tomorrow but it still feels like the day she knew she loved him
it's 6am and he rolls over to see her bare back
fingertips to skin, lips to skin
he knows she loves when he kisses the back of her neck and runs his fingers down her body, top to bottom
naked but not vulnerable
and although so simple, she's aroused and he's invigorated and they're both in love

~
Underneath a crushing moonlit
Roses are dancing in a glow garden
Cram of comeliness whispering through my pensive
Applaud an agitating mind of dragging love
That submerging under a poetic passion
A wild **** of beauty wishing to crave a romance
Stressing on mind that makes
Bubbles of emotions simultaneously,
Touching and filling the empty dreams
That essence of heaven creating the melody of divine music
Passing through the poet's nose and nails
Deep ache  popping at the heart and stone
There render of love conceiving to catch a **** of heaven
A tangible gaiety that creates so surprising illusion
The glimmer chords becoming to splash
The utmost inflames growing to outburst,
Bursts into the fire of gaiety--
Psyche pouring a fathomless passion till the twilight
Where there I am dancing alone with my shadow,
Ah! my Love--
Oh! my Love ----
What a Crushing Moonlit!!  
~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

i'm sorry i'm never sure
but i never am.
I want to get high because I'm tired of a lot
and I'm cleaning up my room but i'll never learn to clean up my act
and what would be the point of that, anyway
(what's the point in anything)
(what's the point in any of this)
tired of planning and hoping and dreaming of success
when i can't even think of what success is
when walking around strung out
seeing in black and white
lighting up and stumbling through bed sheets
doesn't sound so ******* bad
because you can't be bored if you're a drug addict, right?
i've already got my tombstone picked out
i've already drowned and i'll already die in a car crash
or get ***** in a city
and why do my nightmares get so tragic
when i've never really experienced a tragedy
Maybe we are all just walking tragedies
waiting for our time of disaster
SOME DAYS I HAVE HOPE
SOME DAYS I HOPE FOR AN OVERDOSE

godddddd i am just trying to enjoy the time i have but sometimes i don't know how i ***** that up so easily