Joy consummates the soul, sews the ragged seams of one’s heart shut, cleans the wound and filters that putrid mud which has soiled the liquid purity of blood. All to often however, failure is accepted- falling asleep to Parks and Rec. caked in sweat with the volume up so damn loud your own dismal conceptions drown without a second thought, whispering compliments into whiskey bottles hoping they’ll return the favor with friendship become hobbies. When not working or studying for twenty years of debt these are the things that occupy us. No more do we dream of grand fantasies or shout impossibilities to the heavens as if we ourselves are the gods the oceans answer to. No, we are but human, idle and defeated existing under ironbound weights; our skin a canvas of lacerations exclusively okay, never better, never worse.
                  To find joy, fleeting as it always is, is to realize that the innocent idea of “infinity” lasts a measurable amount of time. A first kiss unexpected and rushed on a school night walking briskly home before Mother realizes that you’re thirty minutes late for dinner, a road trip in rust lasting a week of curse words and cigarettes- I left my accent in West Virginia, the smell however, stayed for another ten days. Each petty attempt at holding back a smile that would strike a sun in the darkness of my gut remained for as long as needed. For a measurable amount of time the chains were lifted, arteries were allowed to heal, the heart allowed to beat. Let this body be a map of cuts and bruises, perpetually determined to convalesce as much as I suffer, I will find my way home cleansed and honest if only for a moment.

mjd 15h

is what I have
What some people wish
They can or they may
They have or they want back
In their lives
They don't want to see it
From others eyes
They want it in their world
For love to be in their mind
The pure loneliness that they
Have in their hearts is hate over time
They try to force it into loving hearts
But not into mine

It is heartwarming, being aware of all the stones, knowing they are getting heavy in your becoming-frail hands.
They are stones, no matter how beautiful they are and I carried them for a long while. But I have decided to let them down, one by one, until my hands soften, until my hands are again empty to welcome lightness, to welcome a soft cheek, soft hair, thick eyebrows. To draw the edges of lips, a jawline, an earlobe. To hold a nape, a chest and hands that, I believe, fit into mine.
They will become so light that I'll be able to close all the buttons on the back of my dress.



- LynnAA

улыбaйся

25/4/2017

one lovely voice whispers in my ear and scares all the heaviness away.


- LynnAA

22/4/2017

What a pleasure;
a woodland drive on the edge
of a cliff
with James Dean,
glamour by the sea
A star at work,
fawning over me
We will be
in the gossip magazines,
you and me
and evening chatter
about how things
are supposed to be.

once you know the truth there is no going back
you cannot unsee it
there is no longer a choice to stay oblivious to the unknown

all these answers you search for cannot be found for a reason
watch the show
stay in front of the curtains

don't look behind
for ignorance is bliss
and wisdom is prison

I think there are people
who do not want to be happy

Because they know
happiness might go away
And once it's gone, they know
they might not reach that again
That it will just be a reminder
of what they no longer have
And they'd rather not compare
I think there are people
who do not want to be happy
Yes
There are people like me.

I'm tired of crying. I'm scared of believing.
25/30

the rough texture on his fingers
from putting his soul into his art
his guitar, all black and shiny
a piece of art alone, extra special when he plays it
the warmth of his palm
i trace the lines that cover it
making an 'A' on the center
i clasp my hand, interlacing our fingers
rubbing my thumb against his
i kiss him
nothing makes me happier
than the simple feeling
of his hand

How fucked up is it,
That now that I'm finally happy,
I can't seem to write.

After a long, dreadful winter
filled with sadness and despair,
it is quite nice to see the sun
and have it kiss your cheek
once more.
And awaking every morning
to the sound of small birds
singing out to you
has a way of putting a smile
to your face.
And the feeling of fresh air
filling your lungs with each breath
let's you know that good times
are coming your way.

originally written 1/25/17
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