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julianaPoems
I feel like dying. I can’t stand people. I need to destroy something beautiful. I don’t really want to explain what I mean. Take it abstractly, like a poem. Take life abstractly, like a poem. Stray between the lines, dig deeper than you would if it were a narrative piece. I find myself in a novel. Things are more straight forward if I tell you exactly what to see to hear to feel. It was a cold and windy day at the beach. I think we all need life a bit mixed up. The wind had cold teeth rain still soft in my hair had the ocean desperately handing me shells. Cover it in poetry, decorate with words. Open your ****** eyes, don’t be fooled by what the narrator hands you. There isn’t one author to your existence.
0
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
Paper notes fit in my hands
I feel like dying. I can’t stand people. I need to destroy something beautiful. I don’t really want to explain what I mean. Take it abstractly, like a poem. Take life abstractly, like a poem. Stray between the lines, dig deeper than you would if it were a narrative piece. I find myself in a novel. Things are more straight forward if I tell you exactly what to see to hear to feel. It was a cold and windy day at the beach. I think we all need life a bit mixed up. The wind had cold teeth rain still soft in my hair had the ocean desperately handing me shells. Cover it in poetry, decorate with words. Open your ****** eyes, don’t be fooled by what the narrator hands you. There isn’t one author to your existence.
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juliana
Written by
juliana
Canadian
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
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