The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple’s a rose, And the pear is, and so’s The plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose— But were always a rose.
The moon hung lazy in hazy city sky the air silent and pure - untouched and she was the anima to your animus that pretty little thing you sat in an empty parking lot with talking until three AM she was touching her hair a lot and you remember reading something about body language which said that means she likes you courage isn’t being born standing tall courage is knowing when to follow your love off that cliff courage is faith that somehow she will be there waiting to catch you a safety net made of shy smiles and a nervous mouth filled with run-on sentences and paint stained hands on your ribs a soul isn’t some ephemeral entity trapped inside of you a soul is the anger and lust and passion that directs you all of these words are silly little fickle things pigeons which take flight the moment you get close all of these actions are breathless, frail things old men and women determined to take the stairs she told you that you she had fun you said me too and I want to see you again she said me too sitting there in that empty lot the heater barely on in the car beneath a canvas full of long dead stars you took a leap off of that cliff and for a moment you forgot how to drown
the rain comes to wash away the sins of yesterday so that new life might bloom droplets of water clinging to bare limbs become paintings of flowers by the morning and you could use a little rain right about now head as heavy as your sleepless eyes stomach as tight as your constantly clenched fists at night you get lost within the trappings of your mind a dark maze of funhouse mirror illusions and you pray for relief prayers which do not come with answers so you you search for something to hold on to just for a little longer but these solutions are lead weights disguised as floatation devices and those water wings melt beneath the unforgiving sun you so tired you so willing to let go so willing to be saved by whatever arms may find you the couch is laughing at you the TV is egging you on and that girl who just walked by - I think her name is nothingness - looks so **** good that you are way past the point of seduction another day goes by only to become weeks to become months to become years to become a life of “if only”
do not be fooled by those who only profess wisdom in times of darkness these wolves dressed to be lambs these monsters under your bed they are not your friends a match is useless without a strike and a blazing fire is irrelevant in the absence of cold and darkness take these times and wear them on your sleeve let them be the reason you shine so bright so that you might light up another’s darkness
the children are all running wild among the crab grass eating the wrong colored berries that their parents warned them of just to find out for themselves they play cops ‘n robbers cowboys and indians a gun is a stick is a gun and I’m sorry to say but that kid over there just shot you dead you have to fall over now and play tragedy a mess of sticks, plywood, and leaves is a home they all ate way too much candy and are throwing up rainbows all over the new carpet crying over spilt ice cream melting on the pier cringing not from the ****** skinned knees but the expected sting of the alcohol the only thing they fear is sitting still alone now watch them as they try to ride the neighbors dog and climb trees so that they might have the view of Gods gambling their future for fun not fluent in the language of consequence and they don’t get too worried about what they don’t have because they haven’t developed object permanence yet not yet are they jaded from life they run around in the hot sun with red ears and noses until the sun goes down and their mothers call them home for supper and we envy them only because they know so much less than us and ignorance is bliss
I'm fat I'm ugly I just can't seem to do anything right Why can't I look like her? Why can't I get a guy or girl like him or her? Why can't I be interesting? Why can't I be happy? Why can't I be normal? Whatever that is Will I ever be happy?
I want someone around, but I want to be alone at the same time I want to cuddle up with someone, but I don't want to be touched
Why do I hate being touched?
It's weird Touching someone It feels weird Especially when they touch me I get aggravated when someone does that even angry sometimes
But then I think: who would love a girl who hates herself? How can anyone love a girl who hates herself? Who would want a girl when she doesn't even want herself? How could they?
They can't
I don't know how to to love myself when all I've done was hate myself I don't know how to accept myself when all I've been doing was trying to reject it
*How do you change yourself to look beautiful in your own eyes?