Empty roads and hearts of stone, show the leaves left unturned. The blank canvas yearning for colours left waiting endlessly on the easel. The tides that once were high in spirit, now lay flat on the shores of the land.
after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar
i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks
no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there
i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but i see myself in everything i mourn for
i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes
the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life
in the end, i became who i am because of you
humans are but mosaics of the people around them ;;; we are such little seeds if not watered by loved ones
The first place you call yourself- a monster where you admit that you- are a liar Home is where you learn becoming human Tethered inside stitched up skin you have enough emotions to- spill out But home is- wanting for many things and getting none of them Half-feral and doing everything to not bite the hands that feed You fold and fold and fold until you are smaller- until you are not even really there at all
Truth and lies, I once distinguish the two. Reality is truth, but why... Because Reality is constant; Time is truth, because it is constant, constant because they cannot be change. Understandable, some cannot accept the truth, accept reality, why? Because they cannot change the constant. People will root toward earth, Love will attract one another, Sad will follow happiness, these are all constant, what we call truth. Lies is just another constant, a constant that does not match their own, therefore, people label lies away from truth.
Existence is so fragile Just one thread pull unweaves The entire universe away
Drowning in this intoxicating matter When I breathe I start to get dizzy A rush of blood pumping inside This makes it real This is what makes sense This is a fantasy alive What reality is merely based upon
Be still toward one’s heart, not letting it control one’s body… Be still toward one’s body, not letting it control one’s mind… Be still toward one’s mind, not letting it control one’s heart… Ultimately, all thing began from the heart. As such, we must live and fashion our way to our heart. To forgo all things... Let time fly by, as a long time friend would. Let life drift over our head, as the bird do. Let the wind embrace us as we ***** the hill, as nature wield. So long, so far, the Stillness of all things comes and go. Life are borrowed, not owned… When hollowed, we are simply paying back the debt we own. Heaven cannot move me, Earth cannot bend me, as such, my heart is truly still.
I dwell in this vast world. Seeing loved one's passing through life. Believe that my heart can soar above heaven. Believed that my heart transcend heaven, Yanking the soul of my people away, Place them back on earth. If my heart still lingers on earth, How could I soar nine heavens above? If my heart is above heaven, Why would my heart desire mortal dust below? Dust to dust, mortal dies, let begone bygone, cleaning the dust off myself.