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long night longing what was, again new beginnings again the train had stopped got off to ponder in past obsessions didn't know if they were healthy or not but I dont think any of them are a journey of steps impossible to take back new loves with no special spark i tend to think i've felt it all that's what you made it seem like how we created our past with nothing new to witness at least that's how it seems messages evaporated into thin ******* air meaning nothing but everything to me another night longing for chances I can't even see anymore longing for moments i'll never feel again gone gone gone like the wind that passes old photos still moments i can't remember them all but i was grateful filled with joy, nothing to regret moments i can't seem to remember but will never forget thank you for caring for me "me" if there ever was one an illusion to fall for false hopes all along because they should've never existed i should've never hoped either let me tell you the time 4:42 am my eyes are droopy my body restless thinking about this poem more and more to express about someting that has died an effect i can't ignore something to remember everything was once okay and although, ultimately everything still is it would be better with you, by my side darling always thinking about you behind emotion filled moments
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Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 4:22 AM UTC
david-bojay
here we go again
long night longing what was, again new beginnings again the train had stopped got off to ponder in past obsessions didn't know if they were healthy or not but I dont think any of them are a journey of steps impossible to take back new loves with no special spark i tend to think i've felt it all that's what you made it seem like how we created our past with nothing new to witness at least that's how it seems messages evaporated into thin ******* air meaning nothing but everything to me another night longing for chances I can't even see anymore longing for moments i'll never feel again gone gone gone like the wind that passes old photos still moments i can't remember them all but i was grateful filled with joy, nothing to regret moments i can't seem to remember but will never forget thank you for caring for me "me" if there ever was one an illusion to fall for false hopes all along because they should've never existed i should've never hoped either let me tell you the time 4:42 am my eyes are droopy my body restless thinking about this poem more and more to express about someting that has died an effect i can't ignore something to remember everything was once okay and although, ultimately everything still is it would be better with you, by my side darling always thinking about you behind emotion filled moments
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52
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow, Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted. Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
martin-narrod
I am in levels. Past levels. this deep intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite.
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow, Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted. Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.
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