Bunch of happiness, looks like coffee nuts dancing around my head. I thought they are sweet chocolates. But the fact is they all are coffee nuts filled with sweetness along with some bitter taste. I took 25 % of them for my head ache, 25 % for my mood swings, and the other 50 % for my happiness. And now, i'm going to prepare a coffee for myself, with pure milk and i will not allow any other essence to take part in this process. Because i want the most purest form of coffee to heal my burning soul and i will enjoy that bitterness along with happiness. ☕❤
I feel the crack of the dead leaves underneath my feet reminding me I stay wondering around this dead place once upon a time this was an oasis, once upon a time it was colourful now it is all dead, storms more violent than the ones in my head I guess I feel comfortable here, I imagine there's nothing to fear make friends with the bloodthirsty, prove to myself I am unworthy of anything better than this bitter taste deserve anything better than this polluted waste I swim in the chaos, I dive into the unhealthy goodness is too overwhelming
If at times we have to swallow the bitter pill of remorse we may at first appear to sound much like that of a horse. And when copious tears flow they tend to purify our being leaving us with an inner peace and clearer sense of seeing. _______
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early '90's.
I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a failsafe plot To ******* the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town Again in my life I hope I lie And tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do Yeah I hope I never get sober And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die
There may come a day, as I say, when you may have cause to sing this song. I hope that that day never comes. At the same time, I know that it will. Let’s not kid each other. You're going to have a very bad relationship someday. It's not just gonna ****, it's gonna **** ***. You’re going to make up a little chart of all the ***** that it *****. It’ll be your ***-chart on your bedroom wall. Your significant other will say, 'What is this?' and you will say 'Oh, they’re butts. Just butts.' and they'll say, 'The hell they are; that's an ***-chart!' Where will you be then, O Sinner? As the great worm that never dies curls its slimy folds around your naked heart, you will need a song to sing. This is that song.
you are my forbidden fruit so sweet until the notes of bitter bubble up so perfect for me until your other side shows up duality, inability to see beyond your own body, beyond your own needs what am I to you? what am I if I do or don't? you tried to tie me down, tried to quiet my own voice, displeased with my need for reciprocity to engulfed in your hypocrisy I almost lost me, in your rapids, distractions too many factors, actors, and games too much struggle, rebuttals, and vain so much vanity you drove me insane and I have never driven a day in my life