You choose a sepia filter
To match your timeless visage
To match the clothes you've wandered into today
But it is not a selfie.

Your eyes pierce them through their iPhone screens
Your smile is casually not directed towards anyone in particular
Your outfit is recklessly on point
And it is not a selfie.

It is a punch in the gut
to everyone who has ever
said you are not good enough.
It is not a selfie.

The wings by your eyes will go out of style.
The dye in your hair will wash down the drain.
The clothes will wear out and you will take pictures again.

But you have fabricated a moment.
You are smiling towards yourself.
Slap your image onto every social media you know
Next to the supermodels and Kardashians and words of self hatred
This is the fulcrum with which you will lever the world.
This is not a selfie.

Can't really explain it
It's a beat in my heart that explodes
It's a melody that's stuck on my tongue
It's you

people lose things,
chances,
dreams,
love,
relationships,
each other,  
                                                        ­             and hope,
but what I lose most the time is myself,
not my outside-self, but my inside-self,
and people take intervals or forever
to get back what they lose,
and I wonder, whenever I'll take interval or forever,
to get back myself.

i live in a house with closed doors,
people who are so cold, so angry.
i hate this
i can't stand sane no more

We're passengers of two different ships- going to different places, but everytime we meet on port I just can't help but want to follow you instead.

Maybe I'm not perfect.
Maybe I'm not right.
Maybe I'm a mess.
Or maybe I'm not fine.
Maybe all these things are just excuses.
But to me, they're all the same.
Maybe I make all these stuff in my head.
Just for me to forget that I'm the one to blame.

you've always been the fool thinking that you made words beautiful, thinking you gave them purpose, thinking that you sculpted them with your sandpaper tongue as you carved down their imperfections
when in reality, it was the very same words that made you beautiful in my eyes, the sickly sweet delusion i've entrapped myself in like a firefly in your crystal jar of thoughts
you can't spark a fire within me with well rehearsed words and perfected lines from any old script only to leave me out to dry

There are things that are keepable...
and Things that are not...
Things are remembered...
and things are forgot...
things that are free...
and things that are bought...
things that are lost...
and things that are sought...
things that you don't have...
and things that you've got...
things that are fixed...
and things that are shot...
there are things that are cold...
and things that are hot...
There are things that you cook...
in a pan or a ***...
Things that go anywhere...
until they are caught...
Things that are forced...
to stay in one spot...
there are things that are written...
and things that are wrought...
things that are settled...
and things that are fought...
things that are huge...
and things small like a dot...
and this may not be everything...
but it sure is a lot.