going outside nowadays is just a game of who can hold their breath the longest and of looking for reasons to pass the time in your own backyard but the gardens i see are only for the literary muses haunting writers into submission and for digging up holes with plastic shovels and for wishing that i could pick up the daisies and place them in your hair
i was in the middle of drawing a circle when my arm quivered and now the line shoots way past the paper and it's currently undulating over my desk and zooming past a caterpillar that's contemplating whether the process of becoming beautiful would actually make him beautiful when he already knows that he is beautiful
i hope the god i pray to forgives me for making all the lines i write be about you
this poem makes me picture a certain someone title inspired by a certain somewhere
the lion tiptoes in circles around her. her mind spins in opposite circles while the voice in her head yells "run." but her limbs freeze and lock into place. she hides her breath deep in her lungs, staring straight into the lion's eyes hoping it won't feel the fear in the air. each second crashes onto her shoulders, until the lion slowly saunters away, becoming a small shape in the distance.
#escapril day 22! Re-posting due to issues with the website.
your lips are bleeding somehow the attraction persists a dream awoken and the realization only makes the sunrise that much louder exhausted like a different direction and the destruction was intentional starting the next part one round in the chamber coming and relapsing into it all like a year ago nothing is a song i am pretending to walk in circles not taking to you calling out no echo it's all fabrication the lost distance in your eyes this is all textbook insecurity a shared life experience it's still hard to hear your shadow it's unsupportive and I'll remember the final seconds and meaning is not important
not every word beginning with ‘t’ means the same but they all must be crossed seems to represent human and politics takes humanity out of social change progress is subjective holding keys only for a point of reference which is just a point within a point, which is only all just a referential hypothetical
I can see the way Your rhymes they play Your head You've got that blame On pause Now hit repeat I don't do rhymes Patterns Circles Or anything That spins my head Because I get dizzy And then my head hurts Then I get awkward And I don't like it. Then I get nauseous And I hate it. And then someone out there Decides to hit Repeat.