i've never quite met a mind like mine or yours but i've met many of hers

the kind of writing that really effects me and makes me feel is writing how i am in this post. talking like you are speaking and just saying anything casually not thought for. it's almost as if i'm truly speaking to you through this website

We'll dance like they did in old London
Curled hair and elegant dresses
you'll take my arm, twirl me around, then we'll stumble outside
remove your suit jacket and set it aside
you'll show me a world of rough hair and adventures.
You rip off your suit and don a large jacket, you take my arm and twirl me around,whispering in my ear, "there's so much to see..just you and me, come with me I'll take the lead" and off he goes leading me into a love hate life.
He twirled me around and the world and now I can't breathe.He's gone.
Oh what a life he showed me.

I've lost sight of what's important

Am I a poet? Do I know it? Am i just waiting for a sonnet? To tuck into my bonnet while I scrub the floors of my Lady's castle? Or am I impatient to receive my Haiku? Just to see it stamped into the pavement or ripped by some man's shoe? Or perhaps a good old story? To brighten my days that are blurry? Maybe a speech will do? To empower my sky to change to a lovely hue? I think I'm just waiting for you? To help me escape from my youth.

A few day's ago my father took me out and we ended up taking a stroll down the ever famous memory lane.
Thousands, perhaps millions, had stumbled down this very lane, but to me, I alone had only discovered it.

More.All we ever want is more.All i ever want is just more.Nothing is enough.
More of what though?
I can't keep myself on one subject, I just left 3 other pieces of writing in the space of 10 minutes
My MIND IS RAGING ERRATIC ELECTRIC AND I CAN NEVER HOPE TO RESTORE ORDER, EVERY LITTLE THING IS STORED AND YET CONSTANTLY FLOATING IN THIS SPACE FOR THOUGHT. IT'S FRUSTRATING FULFILLING AND INTRIGUING BUT MOST OF ALL A MYSTERY.

We really are a superficial generation, we rely on the amount of Facebook likes on our profile pictures as a determiner of how popular or pretty we are.
Today I got asked 'How many likes did you get on your profile picture?' Does it matter? My beauty is NOT and never will be indicated by the amount of likes I get. Even if I upload a picture of myself on Facebook and no one 'likes' it, what does that mean? that i'm ugly? that no one likes me?
STOP LETTING SOCIAL MEDIA DEFINE YOU.LIKES ARE NOT REAL AND MEAN NOTHING.FACEBOOK IS NOTHING.SOCIAL NETWORKS MEAN NOTHING.STOP LETTING THE INTERNET RULE YOU.BE A FREE HUMAN NOT A SLAVE TO SOCIAL MEDIA.

it's just something. something about old pictures, something about the way the streets look different and the way those wrinkles on your face now aren't alive yet just waiting to be born,
the way the hues of the image before me are washed out but still shine with the memories you infused into every droplet of ink printed onto the page.
mother and daughter crouched onto the broken cobbled stones.
frilly summer dresses and messy hair for you and for your mother, timeless elegance.
the narrowed streets swallowing you, bring you closer, but closer to what?
the  faded corner shop with the grumbling old man resided in the small city streets.
take a look around, do you remember? tell me about why you took this? when you took this? how did it feel taking this? what had happened before you took this picture?
the small limbed entity crouched cheekily next to her mother, oh i look at you and wonder just how fast time goes.
the time ticks on and so does my heart, that's a second gone, now a minute, suddenly an hour. wait how did 14 years go by.

they trigger something inside of me

I start to internally scream at night?

i've been wondering if i should write a diary
but is it worth it?

actually bringing in a sudden twist of thought
when you don't look at things fully then they brighten your mood
but when you see everything bared
well that's a different story in itself

it's nice when one word or one person can brighten your insides up and put your mind at ease even if it's temporary
it's just nice

It always intrigues me how things change
change no matter how big or small is significant
change starts off small and builds itself up till it's unrecognizable
change can make or break anything
sometimes when someone changes it's because of you
you've made them into this monster
how do you turn them back?

i don't believe in full stops

I've got so many more tricks up my sleeve and baby i'm just firing them out now

I've always wondered about the scenarios the play out in my head without fail several times a day, mostly at night
it's what we want? right?
so why don't we go ahead and make that 'scenario' a reality
we always want to get what we want
so why do we hesitate now?

i want you to feel what i feel through my writing as if it truly is my minds word and not just me fabricating a bunch of crap up with a few large words or a poetic sound

i want to achieve something
i want to make something of myself but i don't want that to happen by me cutting myself off from my distractions
i want to achieve with self discipline by my side the entire time
why is self discipline so hard? or should i say why is it so hard for me?
i keep myself awake till the early hours of the morning because i can't sleep with all these regrets of what I've not achieved taunting me
so i'll feel bad about myself every night and promise and tell myself things that i will definitely do to change and achieve but that never puts my mind at ease because i never do it or i never stick to it
i stick to these bad habits like superglue but i can't seem to form the habits that i crave
constantly circulating around my head will be saying's like : 'those who do,get' or 'wake up feeling determined and go to sleep satisfied'
every day i ask myself how do i stick to self discipline
the worst thing is i know that no one else can do things for me and they need to be done so i have to do it aswell as wanting to do it
but why can't i just do it
this sounds very irrational and overly dramatic but it's so frustrating to discipline yourself i can't describe it or put it in to words easily
i guess i'll just have to **** it up and get on with things otherwise i'll never move forwards because backwards is never an option even though that's all i seem to be doing at the moment
everything is like a chore to me these days and writing as an outlet seems to be helping but it's not really so much writing that i'm doing it's more like an impulsive 'splurge' of feelings? emotions? thoughts? i'm not sure
everything just seems to be pouring out of me at a rate that i will never be able to handle and i just want things to change desperately.
everyday to me is a waste currently as that's what i'm doing i'm just wasting my days away
every day is an opportunity that i'm not seizing which makes me want to grab myself by the shoulders and shake me forcing me to give a rational explanation as to why i'm wasting every day away.
hopefully what I've just written has gotten rid of all my frustration and might actually help me overcome this  
i hate blowing things out of proportion and creating problems but this is just a massive part of my life and if i don't take action the regret i will feel will be enough to destroy me
i can't help but feel that everything is slipping out of my control and i'm at fault
i am the main character in my story and i choose what happens.

ugh social networks,
i'm on nearly all of them
i like them and heavily dislike them
they annoy me because they change people
they change me at times
they're pointless
we spend so much time being our internet selves that we side line what is real
when what's real matters so much more
we're destroying ourselves with something virtual that we have control over
i hate that i'm aware of my control yet i'm still ****** in to this virtual void

distractions
imagine going through a day with no distractions or you distracting yourself
i don't think it's possible
no level of determination can break the foundations of distraction
i'm caught up in a vast cloud of nothing
i can't seem to make sense of my thoughts
pathetic how i control my mind but instead i let it control me
i am the main character in my story
no this is not me being depressed or sad or anything like that since i don't believe in any of that
i'm just confused as to why i succumb to distraction when power is a second nature to me
i let it derail and sidetrack me
all i crave right now is to take control of my life

i just wanna get to know you(r dad)

drag your teeth across my lips and bite me

are we all but one

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No.1

To Autumn by John Keats

each move that we make, is that deliberate?
each desire that moves us, is that what we wish for?
each question that pushes us, is that what we care for?

music seems to push ideas to the front of my mind yet i hate that
music irritates me to no end
the fact it can change my mood and get me to act in a different way
yet i can't see myself going a day without it
i guess it just keeps my mind and thoughts alive and running in some specific way

no galaxies and stars
no *******

It's funny how we like to sometimes drift off and imagine our lives to be something else.
it's funny how the people who have a stable life will dream and imagine of having the delight of an addiction to something whether it be drugs,alcohol,love or ******.
it's always an addiction to something  
people like to feel like they've got the weight of the world on their shoulders so they can say that they wished they were dead.
funny isn't it how we like to turn everything into a dark paradise
ever wonder why we can never make sense of our thoughts?
and ever wonder why we like to over complicate things?
and why we like to reassure ourselves
and how we like ourselves to be the only ones to understand something like this but still wait around for someone else to understand so an attraction can form?
and why we ask so many questions and continue to leave them unresolved?

I never loved, only lusted

Never satisfied no matter the success

PHANTASMAGORIA

The power of youth
Radiated from the eyes of young James
Dressed in his finest suit
Looking sharper than the edge of his knife that he stole
He ventured out into the young night to find the many others that could be mistaken as his twin, all unique copies of each other.
Soon enough he was drunk
Drunk to the point of no return
Drunk to the point that he couldn't help but feel
He, the ringleader lead on his army of youths
Running, Running to anywhere
Anywhere is better than being with the coppers
They loved to wind the coppers up without a care
All fun was over when they were caught
But the power of youth never fails to kick in
Cheered on by his friends,  young James is spurred on to wind up the grumpy copper that roughly held his shoulder
The copper looked at the boy with pity in his eyes and asked
"Have you been drinking son?, you don't look old enough to me"
"I'm sorry officer is there a certain age you're s'posed to be?, no one told me"
The coppers eyes become littered with mirth at the response he wished he could keep hearing
Only one thought appeared in the mind of the copper, The power of youth.

I want to play a game with you
A twisted and deranged game
A strange, unknown pastime

I drifted as you once did
that night
When you felt nothing but you felt everything
I sat there in mute understanding.
Now you're not here I guess I should drift?
Who's going to save me?
I drifted, I was so close to the edge.
Your truck barely staying on land,
tipping away every so often.
The tipping increased
My eyes shot open,
suddenly drifting wasn't so good or was it. I was in your place.
Did you stop me that night?
Did you watch me in mute panic and understanding?
Did you achieve your goal of turning me into you?

i have 15,000 slurs that could prove that I never forgot to let your name slip from my lips even when I slipped away from myself

My suit is ripped
deep slashes across my ribs
I'm bleeding in to you
don't patch up the wound

A young boy, the lonely poet they called him
He was a truth no one could see
At night he escaped from his room and roamed the barren alleyways
hand in his leather jacket
stolen bottle of alcohol in his backpack
drugs in his bloodstream
words stuck in his throat
it's a funny thing
the fact that he felt the night air understood him the most and was willing to listen to his broken whispers of speech
he longed for a certain type of romance
he longed for the smudged ink in his notebook where his soul resides to merge together and form a girl that will **** him whilst bringing him back to life

C O N V E Y

Poetic heartthrobs
that
      steal your soul
with line      
     breaks

Notice? why didn't I ever notice
till now

the sadness morphs into
sickness
then to forced acceptance
but i can't accept
but for the benefit of my surroundings
i'll have to keep lying to myself

\Collections
ever growing
we like to collect for no point
rip things out
then leave me to sit there
collections
picking something up
collected

whispers and silhouettes ddance out me
i cvan barely type
shivers over come me
i cant do this
any     m
ore

why am I doing this to myself
why am I doing this to my mind
I can't help it
could you?
I should say something
but what's the point
with you?

As fast as it left
it came back
here i am
sitting in the dark
feeling like a warped jigsaw piece
never seeing
please lull me to infinite sleep
with your raspy death filled voice

The warmth of our passion
It sparked and I enjoyed the whiplash of fire looking forward to each time you burned me
For the pain against pain
Null.

I want to cry from every part of body
Cry with tears and cry with anger