Get in steps
Or, leave it

You are free.
Genre: Abstract
Theme: When everything matter
Alexander 20h
The hole from within
Draws me closer.
The apathinc grin,
Natural for her.

I dream of clarity.
Of the warmth of arms.
Love’s brutal rarity.
The storms and the calms.

In between sleep and death,
Where my thoughts meets you,
I release my last breath,
Finally anew.

For it was your name
Which had sparked this lust.
On me falls the blame.
In you, did I trust.
No matter how many sunsets or sunrises I see, they are as beautiful and individual as you and me.
They remind me you are watching over me, A love lost but a soul set free
I am not my illness, my illness isn't me but yet I wonder who I would be without it living inside of me.
Are we afraid to let it go, afraid of the person we do not know.
I have forgotten what it feels like not to carry it around with me.
So yes I'm scared, scared to be free because what if I am my illness and my illness is me.
bat for me
home run

she screams
in ecstasy

dream me
bases loaded

olly molly
At last,
Abashed at the rash decisions of my heart,

The crash amassed the crass dealings of my past,
The class to mask the blast,


~Robert van Lingen
Xaha 2d
We are the first generation truly
free - free to create and destroy.
Living on borrowed time, we are
either the end or another beginning.
lins 3d
a gorgeous flower
by the color blind man

forever passed over
like a single grain of sand

vivid color illuminates
free from man's manipulating hand
so much beauty in the unseen
Anji 3d
We were all loved so imperfectly,
it's hard not to hate those that weren't.
The ones who don't flinch when they think about the past, but laugh.
And I've been trying to repaint the pictures hanging in those frames, soft from memory
Trying to find new shades and
Trying to admire the ways
That they are unique. They are mine. They're worth keeping.

I've considered suicide. She's attempted it four times. That could be our battle cry - "we never asked to be alive"
But now we're here
And what do we do?
In a place where there's no pity for fuck-ups or pale scars on wrists or empty bowls burning from final embers, their lungs inhaling it so beautifully.

I never smoked it, but I'm in love with the silver dragons that swirl in the air all around it. I could watch it pour from their lips for hours, could soak in the sweet stench for days, could count away everything else until I count down to nothing.
Nothing. But here.

No more worries or chores or judgments or wondering what people think of me or caring too much or trying too hard and failing, failing.
He tells me that he's changed. Of course I still love him.
But it will never be the same.
here's a spontaneous free write for all of you that I wrote last year. fuck that guy, by the way. doesn't matter if he says he's changed, his actions betray that he's the same. when people show you who they are my friends, believe them.
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