I am thunder
Felt like a hot tin roof beneath young feet
Smoking like the copper wire
Paper on a guillotine
Slicing through an echo chamber
I am the terror of a plastic souls desire
Until only bane of self remains
And all once again are made the same
Even when uncomfortable. It's unexplainable for sure. No words can or will ever do it justice.
Some kid called you hot
Happens more often than not
I'm glad it's their to boost your ego
You feel uncomfortable
but yet enjoy it though?
what if we tried again?
what if we started over?
what if we got coffee and introduced ourselves all over again?
would you find me attractive? would you think i was beautiful? would you feel your heart skip beats like you said you did before?
would i be funny? would you laugh at my stories?
would you be nervous? would you shift in your seat and pick at your nails, squirming when we made eye contact?
would i be enough? would you leave thinking you'd want to see me again? or would you say that was nice, and move on?
what if we stayed friends? what if we hung out a lot, studied together, did stupid **** together?
what if it was like it was before without any titles?
would you fall back in love with me?
would you watch me when I laughed, turn back to look at me when I left?
what if while we're friends you find someone new?
what if she hates me?
what if she wants me out of your life?
would you leave?
would i be alone?
what if you fall in love with me and I've moved on? what if we're in a cycle of missed opportunities all because I ****** it up the first time?
these what ifs are killing me and i know maybe they might be killing you too.
I can't tell if you're thinking about me,
you've always remained a bit of a mystery to me.
I'm going to **** my brain thinking about the what if's that I can't control.
what if i still love you and I'm never going to get to hold you again?
Can you make up your mind?
Why, oh why, did you decide on that?
Oh, I get it....
Not really but...
I have to admit the end result is pretty good
Remember life is a series of decisions..!
Brian Hill - 2019 # 248
Life is full of decisions...
Promise me this,
My breath is shaking,
An unwillingness to grieve,
One, two, three times,
Won’t get em’
No they won’t
Spirit of fairness
No we don’t have that
Cutthroat attitudes for a Pretty Penny
Morbid Grand Displays
Material world is unsanitary
My breath is shaking
An unwillingness to grieve
One, two, three times
Won’t get em’
No they won’t
Promise me this.
How can you tell what's on
What is the most important thing
that you think about?
The last thought you have before going to sleep
the first thought you have when you
Just quickly wrote this down before bed because it wouldn't stop bothering me.
What is love?
A emotion? is it a want or a need?
is it something everyone meets somewhere in life?
What is love?
A problem? or dream come true?
I guess its all in how you look at it
I see it as a opportunity
You could accept it or deny it
Everyone sees it differently
I know its not like this now...Nostalgia really took hold though. I found this in a old notebook i had from when i was 9-10 or so...Really hits home to think about. How lost i am in life and confused in general...Especially when it comes to love. Im still trying to learn how to like everyone else. Hardest part right now is the difference between love and lust..
The rain of the previous year,
Has made the sky so perfect and clear,
It’s washing away,
It’s tumbling down from above,
It’s Chicken Little on the run
Don’t choke on your sweat,
Have we made it into heaven yet?
The moment is right,
We’re up all night
And trading silly stories from the present, past, and the future
Your hair it shines,
And your smile reflects off mine,
You may think it’s bad,
The faces you had,
But now the stress is fading away
You’re ready for a new day
its stream of conscious oh no don't do that
In silence's muse, not a single muscle stirred
My mind had wailed for my words to be heard
But my thirst for vengeance against them grew
Because death is simply not meant for you
So while my scant breaths rob oxygen in greed
Of the day that I planted anger with a seed,
Your final words that fluttered a subtle hue,
Your final wish sat upon a mantel—then I heard
The memories of you taking me under your wing
And I remembered how one day in spring
You found the human in me and said
“Silence! Listen to their motions spiraling!”
The grave is marked; your remains repose dead,
But you are dead, oh, you are dead
My mind's a grave. I'm buried in anger.