Dec 2013
I wanted to come home to a riddle that has already been solved, and crush the snow that has already fallen
I wanted to draw a picture that has already been outlined, and eat the meal that has already been cooked
I wanted to love the boy that has already loved me, and wipe away tears that have already fled
I felt selfish in voicing these frivolous wishes to even myself, a desire of continuities
A yearning for ease at everything in life
The emptiness of a freight train houses nothing but fallen whispers of an angry wind and the immaculate darkness that hides the emotions
The loudness of the one-track mind, suffocating wishes with plastic bags in hand
Swerving on and off the tracks like in your worst childhood nightmare, where it never ended
A purgatory of life- living while dead, or dead while living?
I tied my shoes at age 5, ignorantly crafting a fantasy world inside of my head where everything that required a struggling effort fades, and fades quickly until it skips the obstacles and leads right to the reward
A self-entitled structure of my cerebral cortex where I find them all sitting around waiting for it to take care of itself
And I cannot fast forward anymore because I am 17 and failing at life
The crackling essence of my entire nervous system breaking down at the mere thought of futures
Where I cannot wrap my wishes in pretty bows and let them come true
They do not listen to lazy 17 year olds with bambi eyes and mascara-run cheekbones
They salivate to little girls catching shooting stars in their hands and begging for the ease of life to rest at their fingertips
Now, all-knowing, wise, they let the yarn of dreams come undone until the visibility of easiness vanishes right before you
I want to come home to a story that has not yet been written, and watch the snowflakes that have not yet fallen
I want to draw a picture that has no direction, and eat a meal that has not yet been cooked
I want to love the boy that has not yet loved me, and wipe away tears that have not yet fled
I feel open to this new idea of uncertainty, a desire for discontinuities
A yearning for adventure in every part of life
The bustling aspect of the city burns my feet into the ground, holding me with nothing but the uneasiness of the cracks in the sidewalk and the illuminating lights that never fade away
I sprained my ankle at age 12, conclusively believing I would not make it through, but discovering the true talent of healing
A humble version of a once perfectionist attitude, I become accepted into the world of **Reality
I wanted to draw a picture that has already been outlined, and eat the meal that has already been cooked
I wanted to love the boy that has already loved me, and wipe away tears that have already fled
I felt selfish in voicing these frivolous wishes to even myself, a desire of continuities
A yearning for ease at everything in life
The emptiness of a freight train houses nothing but fallen whispers of an angry wind and the immaculate darkness that hides the emotions
The loudness of the one-track mind, suffocating wishes with plastic bags in hand
Swerving on and off the tracks like in your worst childhood nightmare, where it never ended
A purgatory of life- living while dead, or dead while living?
I tied my shoes at age 5, ignorantly crafting a fantasy world inside of my head where everything that required a struggling effort fades, and fades quickly until it skips the obstacles and leads right to the reward
A self-entitled structure of my cerebral cortex where I find them all sitting around waiting for it to take care of itself
And I cannot fast forward anymore because I am 17 and failing at life
The crackling essence of my entire nervous system breaking down at the mere thought of futures
Where I cannot wrap my wishes in pretty bows and let them come true
They do not listen to lazy 17 year olds with bambi eyes and mascara-run cheekbones
They salivate to little girls catching shooting stars in their hands and begging for the ease of life to rest at their fingertips
Now, all-knowing, wise, they let the yarn of dreams come undone until the visibility of easiness vanishes right before you
I want to come home to a story that has not yet been written, and watch the snowflakes that have not yet fallen
I want to draw a picture that has no direction, and eat a meal that has not yet been cooked
I want to love the boy that has not yet loved me, and wipe away tears that have not yet fled
I feel open to this new idea of uncertainty, a desire for discontinuities
A yearning for adventure in every part of life
The bustling aspect of the city burns my feet into the ground, holding me with nothing but the uneasiness of the cracks in the sidewalk and the illuminating lights that never fade away
I sprained my ankle at age 12, conclusively believing I would not make it through, but discovering the true talent of healing
A humble version of a once perfectionist attitude, I become accepted into the world of **Reality
