within, or rather in between, whomsoever was present. like a good party crasher, he becomes the life of the party, joking, dancing, womanizing (the sun so very much a man!) singing his anthems, commencing with “Here Comes the Sun,” followed by every other sun~song known to the celestials, concluding near around 4:00AM with his rendition of Garth Brook’s classic:
”Ain't going down 'til the sun comes up Ain't givin' in 'til they get enough Going 'round the world in a pickup truck Ain't goin' down 'til the sun comes up”
the ladies, especially Venus, all quite smitten, purring like kittens, took that as a personal invite-ta-tion, and I swear that night many comets were created.
If you feeling a surprising heating in your bed tonight, don’t be afraid, it’s just me feeling sunny...
we climb higher and higher in our ivory towers land is at a premium a square foot a king's ransom so we dwell among the clouds eye to eye with the birds though never know their freedom we are with the stars though we burn out their celestial light we can whisper in God's ear though above the clatter he may never hear us
Help! Hold me I am A glass half empty Trying to fall into a larger cup Metaphorically speaking I am the one looking for innocence It'd be easier to be empty Than to toss it all in poor judgment Possessed by this desire A fire rises, and I'm just a fly on the wall An anthem of indoctrinated philosophy Wondering where is the merit in being avenged Hold me, before I slip across the edge Into a glass half empty Engulfed by saltation into my darkest dreams
Relics of the empty soul cannot appear on the face Yet, when I imagine the human condition Evanescence of these memories are merely a relic Jaded and pure are these deep ties to my reality So are crowded people unaware of the emptiness of my soul?
It’s hard to be your own person, to move your singular body in its own direction, when every corner is already crowded by other thoughts. Your limbs brimming with self-loathing again, brilliant. Bubbles of spit boasting as they frame your thirsty lips. You’re picking blood-stained fingernails with yellowing teeth that never knew the curling cradle of a smile. At a loss for embrace, Fake hair plastered by stained sweat to your forehead. There, in the hollows of your forehead, permanent lines appear prematurely, paving the way for the end of your rabbit hole, spiraling. Head so full of heavy thoughts that your necks snaps.
it feels like it's all in my head wasting daylight and sinking deeper it can be lonely sometimes but also too crowded i feel lost in my thoughts and it weighs me down but then i remember i think too much