I think it's very important to have someone to remind you that you can do it, when you think you can't.
Someone to help you build the wings you need to fly away with.
That's what you are, to me.
So, forgive me, if I'm having a hard time letting you go;  but, somehow, when you say I can, I believe you.

Mims Jan 7

Isn't it?
I tried to be optimistic
It was a short ten minutes
And you can call me angry or depressed
But the world is still at least a little shit at best

The end of the f**cking world is a great show
X Jan 4

Do we even wonder how we live?
or are we just going with the wind

Why do we always have to suffer
Is it a requirement for us to be much better?

Are we living the right way?
Or we are living it to seize the day?

No one knows how to live life correctly
We all had different principles that we believe deeply

We can't control the things around us
But we are in control of our behavior and emotions

We have to think positively
And brush off all the negativity

ambient Jan 3

we can only thank the gods
for this contented night
as the bells send out the year
as the snipers shoot thru the stars
as we sit here determined to push
ourselves on thru another one.
we can do it, we can do it, yes,  
we can.

keep going
Lure Pot Nov 2017

I am an optimistic youth
I sing songs of green day
The night wants a new day
So I'll be brighter and stronger!

If someone hurts me ever
I'll stay close to him forever
To get success in my life
I'd be a patient in the suffering.

If you don't like my happiness
Still I'll make friends with you
Tell you, you are my beloved
There is no happiness in this.

Whenever the wrong path calls me
I will not go, I'll never go that way
I'd never take bad and ugly things
I'll take the better and loving things.

madison curran Nov 2017

i have nightmares about bridges burning a lot,
probably because the last one i burned killed all my elation
i still think of you everyday,
your face still brings me to my knees,
i can feel your presence in every room,
because the bullets intrude my anatomy every time you even glance at me.
even if I’m not looking back.

love has always been a hollow ribcage for me,
a burned down church,
that I always went back to to pray to,
only to be brought to my knees by it’s absence,
every single time.
all I knew about love was that it was violent,
that it made people into glass,
that it broke people like wrecking balls against buildings
and there I was for years waiting for you to come and destroy me just like every time my father walked out that door.
but you never did.
instead you planted flowers in a garden that had been barren for years,
you ended the winter that was electrifying throughout me,
you taught me that maybe my insides weren’t so hollow,
because my heartbeat felt like more than just the sound of spoons clinking together to remind me that it was time to eat away at my own insides again.

but you’re gone,
and here I am feeding away at my insides again,
except there is nothing left for me to destroy,
my body is a graveyard.
and maybe love does turn you into glass,
because every time you speak to me,
my insides shatter like fine china in tight palms,
you made me feel like more than just a felon,
that my hands were fluent in something beyond destruction,
but when you kept asking me to come back,
i threw rocks at my own windows,
because it hurt so much to have to walk away,
i painted my own self image against your brain,
so that you wouldn’t see me as that girl that turned your body into melted honey,
you’d see me for the demons chanting in the back of my head.
and I guess it worked,
because you told me you do not love me anymore,
i wonder if you hung that painting in your bedroom.
saw it every morning and finally became too disturbed that you put me to rest.
or maybe you got tired of the girl who cried wolf,
i mean isn’t that why you left in the first place?

you told me you felt lost after i left,
and here I am, I caught your illness.
i would have done anything to try and recreate how you made me feel,
but just like any person who tries to recreate Picasso or Monet
it’s never quite as good the second time
or third,
or fourth,
sure the cigarettes burn like the way the memory of your flesh burns against my mind,
but it hurts less.
so I smoke a pack a day, swallowing the smoke like I’ve learned to swallow my pride,
but then it just reminds me of the puff of smoke I see every time you walk away from my bones.
i become a sad child again,
there is nothing more devastating than doorways for me.
but I want you to know that I woke up this morning,
and there was sunlight slipping through the cracks of the earth,
earth that has been grey for too long,
your ghost did not slip through my walls,
the sound of your voice does not crack at my sidewalks anymore.

my insides are no longer hollow.
there are daisies blooming,
in my ribcage,
where there is also a city i have built around all the bridges i have burned,
including ours,
you told me you do not want me anymore,
you have told the world of my madness,
used my painting as a flag for your newly built town.
just know that i am still standing.
you have not broken me,
she has not broken me,
i was whole before you,
and i am whole now.
do not tell me you have found crystals mining through someone else’s anatomy,
don’t tell me you’re finally healed,
it’s never quite as good the second time.
or the third,
or the fourth.

your portrait was painted in chalk on the sidewalks of my life,
but it rained yesterday,
and you are gone,
except it did not bring me to my knees,
i am not mourning it's disappearance,
i am mourning your losses,
you have settled for crystals,
and let gold slip through your fingers,
i have used your bones to build myself up,
instead of beating myself down.
they say the first cut is the deepest,
but i am done bleeding.

I do not miss you anymore.

This life has become more than I ever wanted it to be and the future looks even more hopeful as far as I can see.

ambient Sep 2017

maybe there will be
a day where we can finally
be honest with ourselves
and each other.
maybe we will be able
to say that our
bodies, faces, brains
are fucked
instead of acting like
the sun beams out of our
assholes and every pore of
maybe honesty and truth
will prevail
one day.
maybe one day
when we throw these
overboard into one
of the seven
ocean passages
to hell.

9-18-17, 20:01
ambient Sep 2017

maybe there will be
a day where we can finally
be honest with ourselves
and each other.
maybe we will be able
to say that our
bodies, faces, brains
are fucked
instead of acting like
the sun beams out of our
assholes and every pore of
maybe honesty and truth
will prevail
one day.

9-18-17, 19:35
spellthief Sep 2017

I tried to kill myself before

but I saved myself then

If I want to die now

I know I will save myself again

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