"estimation" poems
Estimate tells us the avg. height
of a female in the U.S. is 64 inches.
This is quantitative. Unfeeling of prospect,
the numbers fascinate and baffle.
Recent estimation supposes
1500 active volcanoes on the earth of which
500 have erupted since history,
the invention of writing.
Such a short time ago.
Measuring in quantities, the earth is
4.5-4.6 billion years old.
Creatures of like sentience who never wrote about
volcanoes, the age of their earth.
Quantities hum of something borrowed.
So tight-wound, so deeply close, and yet still.
Something not ours.
Blind, free of invention.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
While having a heart to heart one night,
My friend informs me that as a straight person, I will never understand what it's like to be closeted.
That there is a reason people understand the term "gay suicide" without context,
That love looked like moth wings that would flutter away or wither at touch,
That the secrets and shame are like locks on the door from the outside and you realize that there is no one out there with a key.
That same friend once asked me if I've ever thought about joining a nudist colony.
She said that the comfort I find in my own skin and my ability to separate naked bodies from beds was admirable.
I told her, there was a reason I never read her my poetry.
I told her, I don't wear make up at Wal-Mart.
That I turn off the lights but still let him love me.
I read to estranged ears.
That bareness was something I would never grow into.
"Darling!" I told her, "there are some things you just aren't meant to see."
I have been truth-or-dared to strip naked, and its not as easy as you might believe.
There is a little something that sits at the back of my mind I like to call "modesty."
Modesty can be defined as the quality or state of being unassuming or limited in the estimation of one's abilities.
"Darling," I wanted to tell her, "You have no idea what these hands are capable of."
There was a time I was proud of that.
They were small and feeble, but holding a blade firm they became strong.
They became what I needed.
My skin became less of a barrier and more of a costume. When I slipped it on, I became original.
I became identified, if only to myself.
The scabs were a serial number the First World girl who was a little too white,
a little too straight,
and a little too doubtful could call her own.
But I was a little too weak,
and a little too lonely
and had a little too much time on my hands to wrap around the knife.
They became my drug. I became a liar.
My skin became an apology for everything I thought you should blame me for.
There was a time I would have done anything to show you, but I have always been a performer.
No one ever asked to see the curtains close.
My friend told me that I would never understand what it's like to be closeted.
That secrets and shame are like locks on the door from the outside and you realize that there is no one out there with a key.
The tally of every moment I'm locked in is a timeline of my mistakes, visible on my own skin.
There are some things you just aren't meant to see.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
“Congratulations
You managed being five feet above the ground”
Said a man who
Can’t contain a slight, sardonic sound
The situation:
He’s reading eating magazines from the coast of Spain
And yelling himself blue
For the jeepney won’t hurry in the pouring rain
He smashed his head on the glass
Wishing for a train
It nearly cracked / but his
New cadence sounded quite sane
“Congratulations
You took five before you smoked the first one down”
Said a man who
Complimented me for sinking above the ground
“It’s estimation
I might trip before a wheel enters our lane”
I yelled the truth
At this moment, his presence started to stain
A boat that had already passed us
Yelled, “All aboard!”
We weren’t sure it would float
But it had a great deal of cords
Then we clambered on
There was a myriad of golden spades
Two for every buried fool
That was forced to stay
The stench was concealed
By the satisfied old man
A woman muttered
That she was headed to Queensland
A driver viciously flung his arms
Into the air, in apt alarm
The intersection’s volley
Aimed for the starboard
Everyone reached for the mast,
Hoping to soar
“Congratulations
You nodded off before the lights started to blare”
Said a man who
Lied, ostentatiously impaired
I’m at the station
Then, I noticed to my side was a golden *****
I dug myself through
The mahogany and got on with my day
In the rain
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
I'm like a genie, but I won't grant you three wishes.
I'm an estimation without the guesses.
See, maybe that's my problem
But I won't take the time to solve 'em.
I deny the facts when they're written in pen
I flick your forehead over and over again
Ill treat you like a dog because I know you won't run away.
And when you do I cry and cry and cry
Bye, bye , bye
I know it's all my fault
Bye, bye, bye
Steady cruise comes to a halt
Lullaby Lullaby
I'll only sing you in my head
Lullaby Lullaby
Or maybe I'll write you down instead.
Oxy of the morons, merely the worst one.
Pair o' foxes, paradoxes, scary boxes
I'm too afraid to open it.
What if it's bad? What if it's ****
I'll never know will I
Bye, bye, bye, precious Lullaby
Bye, bye, bye
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 8:27 PM UTC
Watching life’s play,
From the nosebleed section.
If I die today,
It’s natural selection.
I hear what people say,
But don’t make the connection,
The past fades away,
To a vague recollection.
99 problems,
No retorts or solutions,
Trying to pay my bills,
Without resorting to prostitution.
Losing is a life lesson,
Hard to learn,
It’s a truth I mention,
In no uncertain terms.
They say if you get knocked down,
Get back up,
But sometimes when I’m knocked out,
I’ve had enough.
My drive and ambition,
Is out of gas,
But I’m stuck in my position,
Can’t change the past.
They said, “It’s okay chum,
There’s a future to make.”
But no, it’s okay son,
I choose not to partake.
I’m on the road of life,
Just taking a jog,
But I can’t run right,
Cause I’m an underdog.
I know I’m not perfect,
I’ve made mistakes,
But I really do deserve it,
So give me a break.
Girlfriend told me,
I’d never succeed.
I choked at her,
Cause I forgot to breathe.
I was told to walk,
Off the beaten track,
I talk one step forward,
Then whisper two steps back.
I’ve been made a fool,
I’ve played the clown,
I never broke the rules,
But I still broke down.
When I look in the mirror,
To examine my features,
It brakes when brought nearer,
So I pick up the pieces.
You know I don’t deal,
In self depreciation,
So what you find here,
Is honest estimation.
I’m not clever as Copernicus,
Or strong as King Kong,
Even when you’re learning this,
You knew it all along.
I’m on the road of life,
Drifting through the fog,
But I can’t see tonight,
Cause I’m an underdog.
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC
I posted this poem a few days after I joined HP. As is oft the case, poems you are especially proud of, fall to the wayside, under the onslaught of the constant waterfall of new submissions. With the usual exception of Ms. Lori C., one of the two unofficial High Priestesses of HP, in my estimation, this one, was pretty much overlooked. Despite some comical jaunts of late re bras and beds, real inspiration has escaped me ever nice I penned "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay (Razor Blades, Pills, & Shotguns" last week. So, with your hoped for solicitude, I resubmit it, hoping it finds a wider audience and dedicate it to those of you who I number as friends (you know who you are!), despite the fact that our only shared embraces have been techno~electronic, and yet the quality of your kindness is beyond measure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Numerical Quality of Friendship
The quality of friendship is non-quantitative.
Yet, I ask you to number it, and me, this way.
With tape measure, determine that:
The length of my arm's embrace will always be
longer than long enough, and when distance magnifies sorrow's gains,
my shoulders measure wide enough to pillow your wearied head.
The depth of my pocket is finite for by definition,
a pocket is but an open doored, three walled shelter.
My pocket of shelter is forever open, forever deep,
and forever is infinite.
Trust that when bowed and bent,
upon my shoulders climb and together we will be tall enough
to touch the season's new fruit upon the tree of life,
and with one tongue, taste the unimaginable!
Do u think that mercury can measure
the warmth of my tears when love sears my heart,
or the heat of thy skin when it heals and cauterizes
wounds salted by the mistreatment, by the bitters of the weak ones,
who rejoice when they scald others?
Size me up.
What is my volume?
What are the boundaries that
length X depth X height
state must limit my capacity to cherish, to heal,
and even to forgive those who deserve no forgiveness?
If you measure me well and proper,
if I meet the standards that qualify me to be called friend,
then friend me here, friend me now,
friend me for the qualities I posses,
and number us a unity among the few
who are truly blessed
by a quality of friendship that cannot be measured,
for there is no scientific instrument that can quantify
limitless.
March 2012
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
I am
In a word
transfixed to a moment
the epitome of evolution
the pinnacle of creation
I laugh triumphantly
As my knife pierces the medium rare steak
So civilized
I am
that rare breeze
that has traveled the distance
of so many sorrows
a physical force
borne of the contradiction
between warmth and the abyss
I am
very respected
I adjust the tie
the trapezoidal patterns hide so coolly
the noose around my neck
a lynching of estimation
in a two part drama
I am
leaning against the wall
the flesh pressed against the graffiti
my being transposed against someone else's thoughts
its all a happenstance
an accidental meeting without a gaze
but for that commonality
we have nothing in common
I am
a synapse
I pass on the sensations
of pain and pleasure
without discrimination
my free will
in all its glory
succumbs to a chemical reaction
yet I must be more
or maybe just maybe
the knife I hold can pierce more than flesh
I am
floating on a stationary platform
I choose my destiny
I rearrange the order of confusion
a train screeches to a halt
a sea of ties and heels
self assured smiles
of the precise menu
may I have the check please
I am
a random canopy of emotion
I flutter in the breeze
the clearest expression of being
of breathing
of wanting
of feeling
a rare glimpse
a subtle smile
a delicate touch of flesh against flesh
its all too fleeting
transparency and no more
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
Fifteen inches LCD
Electronic mouse
And bunch of scratches of sheets.
There were roof lines
Valleys and ridges
Encircling the overlapping layers
Some are frozen, some are hidden.
Estimation and calculation
Uttering numbers
With various actions.
3D walls
Inserting commands
Subtracting openings
Including doors and windows.
The formula was easy
To multiply and subdivide
Real aesthetical features
Future renovation
For firm edification.
(6/30/14 @xirlleelang)
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
My estimation is that every human is primarily in the pursuit of love.
and that most of us are worthy; and that it's value stretches way; way beyond the boundaries of the economic machine.
~
Love is priceless!
~
Yet we choose to live in a material world that suppresses love; and we call this sensible.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
Swiftly the lungs expand,
filled
with
air
of resistance.
Stand ready to succeed!
A death sentence
is
a
guess.
It
is
an
estimation.
God alone knows truth.
It is His will that decides.
Some days are better
than others.
Like an adventure
where
we
never
know
the end results.
Regardless of the day,
it
is
the
only
one
to
have.
Jesus taught us to
live for today,
to
leave
yesterday
behind.
To ignore
the
worries
of tomorrow.
Each day has its own concerns.
Enough to occupy the thoughts.
I will
stay
focused
on the
gifts
of today.
Thank you Lord,
for the gift of life.
And
if
this
is
my
last
day,
so be it. I end with the
peace
to be
found
only in the comfort of God's love.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
The first moment
Was divided by the total mass
The center of..
The moment of inertia
Rigid in body
How much more torque
Will turn this rotations
Secondary
In a moment
Notice the rotational axis
Of the earths fastest acceleration
Mass times the square
Of the perpendicular distance
To the rotation of our sphere
Can anyone else hear
Could anyone else here
Understand the scalar magnitude
Of a poets Newtonian mechanics
And the motion of macroscopic objects
Circling his metaphors
If the present state of an object is known
It is possible to predict by the laws
Of classical mechanics
How it will move
The spherical harmonics
Are a set of orthogonal functions
Yet periodic functions composed of sinusoids
Is the assumption of weighted summation
Discrete time fourier transformation
In relation to a quills synthesizing rotation
Is the explanation I'm trying to relate in
What do you think I'm saying
Need I explore the atomic orbital electron configurations
Their representation of gravitational fields geoids
Fiber reconstruction for estimation
of the path and location
Of a poems explanation
For the spin of its formation
Is just a calculation
Differing in interpretation
By the readers relation
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 12:19 AM UTC
Am I supposed to want
To do more than just take it all in, how does everyone
Hold so fast onto the silk when it’s been
Sedated to such a slippery strand?
My grip tends to snap the thread extended by the
Way they talk to me, maybe if they gave me a rope.
As it is I prefer to
Synthesize the scenery into puffs of ***** smoke-
These desserts are grated from reality and so I
Must love reality, but I can’t eat it raw;
I see people’s sawdust centers as the
Cream they could become, I am far more deterred
By bitter tastes than the concept of having to wait for my predictions to ripen,
The fact that they never will is
Only a cynical estimation of mine that I hope will spoil as I age.
Spices are not lies, are not
Blandness masquerading as something so inconsistent with your vision that
You will lose sight of the road.
It is not just a question of
Going down easier, it’s just better
To boil your potatoes.
I hope to dispel a fear of my own, that
I’m some sort of addict, filling myself up with helium like some sort of
Basement-life pocket knife fix,
A recipe mixed to skew me into groggy selfishness that
I would anticipate as good faith and optimism, but my tendencies are erratic,
Dragging my body along to trace a healthy heart line, I suppose,
and with one foot in the door,
I can't quite say which side I'd rather be on.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Maiden and Observer
As speculated,
The observer and the scientist
See an enigmatic entrance.
The arrival of the specimen:
He shows haste,
His wrist flickers:
Punctuality.
He mouthes questions of career:
Orderliness.
His vocal appetite silent:
Surrender.
He declares instruction:
Superiority.
He brightens athleticism.
Focus.
The smile appears through
in the unknownest places,
Within restaurant doors,
Through the soundwaves.
Through ideations:
Competitive movement.
Inertia and stagnation is of disinterest.
Wordly reflection produces empty reciprocration.
Can it be a metaphor for the observer,
Can the specimen by the symbol?
Both reflected from one another.
There is the one,
and then, the other.
The challenge is:
Exhibiting both states
Simultaenously.
This is the task of the maiden.
The balancer of scales.
The scientist seeks to understand,
There is evidence of somes sort
A hidden bliss a smile inside,
a moment of analysis.
Notions brought on by previous experiments.
Past failures predict present outcome,
Recent knowledge or estimation?
Emotion links to reason,
Reason negotiates but stands firm,
The scientist is fatigued, his hand lowers.
Body language is lazily interpreted by curious Observer,
Studying this new behaviour.
The professor places his spectacles on,
He sees no other path to take,
He concludes and hypothesises,
This specimen can be learnt from
No more.
Specimen's silence allows flowing thoughts to pervade the mind of the observer and the scientist.
Silence given to the cynicism of life,
the broadened mind
perceived as narrow.
The observer is observed.
Now conciousness changes in the realm of the user experiencing himself.
Self perception, self defense,
Guard is raised,
Gates are closed.
Only water flows through,
Other matter obstructed.
Maiden, Observer, Scientist, Specimen.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
all her nails, freshly painted,
the smoothed shaved legs,
seasonally and saintly nick free,
the eyeliner,
A+ student penciled in,
eye shade applied with lightest of touch sensual,
threaded eyebrows,
curvaceously straight,
streaks of red,
the appliqué upon her head,
parfume strategically dabbed in spots near where any
body's lips might invade,
*and yet,
not one primped place upon her
was safe!*
all turned awry,
when knocked I
upon bedroom door,
bursting to read a poem freshly made,
the oven's writing warmth,
still faint discernible,
giving off the aroma of heated ink,
upon a skin-smooth page,
a bakery smell irresistible
presented her with my best,
a man's rawest essence
refined, honed, then, honored, favored by her
she, overcome!
weeping pleasure at the pleasuring
of my words so gentling,
all by my soft speaking tongue applied,
that engendered this response
she,
in a slow pouring, half turning,
presented me with an act of counter-balancing,
no embrace, no equality of caressing,
nonetheless,
a weighty visible estimation of
her physical esteem and appreciation
presented me a bill for repair,
a body's bodyshop estimate,
undoing the undoing damage done,
by my careless, thoughtless,
ecstatic reading of
only love poetry
she added a weary, seasonal, lyrical
claus(e) of some folk familiarity,
by way of apology
"that's what you get for loving me"
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
They say the end is near
An empty prediction
Nay, an estimation.
Media man spreads the word
Like an unforgiving pestilence;
Fan the flames a little more.
Did you hear the news?
Of course you did,
It’s embedded in our mind.
The sirens blare
Our panic will have to wait
Time now for our commercial break.
…
Tell me a story, Grandpa
Of a time before the screen
I’ll listen here upon your knee.
A time with hope; peace of mind
Before we knew too much
We were never meant to hold such empathy.
Where man was free
Of distant tragedy, when
Smiling wasn’t such a rarity.
…
Let us interrupt this tale
Welcome back to reality
Now tell us all that
Tomorrow may never come.
Say it again the day after next
The one after that and more.
We will remain with vigilance
Eventually you’ll be right.
At least for now,
We have our memories.
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 12:16 AM UTC
Everything remains as it is, very much the same,
nothing much has changed.
Still keeping in mind the present,
all of the changes happened in the past need to be looked upon with regards to future.
The importance of time can neither be defied nor denied
When something gets defined and listed as a priority, even that element of priority gets attached to time
Definitely, it’s time the importance of which can neither be defied, nor denied.
Some things have changed with time
Some remain the same as they are, right in their respective places
When an approach is made towards getting something done,
important to make sure it’s a right approach.
Always a right approach makes the real difference with regards to future.
Success and failure, of course it remains part of the game.
Agreed and accepted that approach and attitude are different from each other,
however, it’s the positive attitude that makes all the difference.
Start with something in the present, over a period of time it will be realized that not only time, even efforts need to be monitored.
Start with something in the present, over a period of time you will remember the start, but not relate to it as a thing of past.
It’s fulfillment that matters
Satisfaction plays a major role when it comes to climbing up the ladder of success.
Never decide anything on the basis of past or prior
Decide the value of anything that will be purchased on the basis of present and future
A time will come when past will become a thing of past, but the present will tell what else needs to be done with regards to future.
Definitely nothing much has changed
Everything goes on in the mind with regards to what's right and what's wrong
Estimation, evaluation, calculation, you may call it anything, but definitely it’s a mind game after all.
Possibilities are many,
however scope keeps changing with regards to the future.
Keeping in mind all the possibilities and also the future,
important not to give up in life, but equally important to keep and maintain a positive attitude in life.
A day will come when success will happen, till that point in time keep on going.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
She appears a determined stare or the other, a drop of tear,
he oscillates like a pendulum, between her changing moods-
that take him by surprise.But he is blissfully at ease.
His swing every moment, spans between love and an empty space,
ebullient life and dark forgetfulness without any end.
On the periphery everything appears to have a symmetry,
in the river,water rushes towards the sea, watching it from the bank,
one thinks everything goes fine, but to see what happens in life
one needs to look deeper in to the current, keep ears closer to the ground
to understand. Love has more power than even tempered iron, you'll see,
if you understand how it works on every situation,
even surpassing your own estimation.
"Come hither" her eyes plead without even words, he quickly responds,
his heart allows it to happen even without a thought.
The wind, not giving any hint, swiftly moves and caresses the flower,
Love is blind, plays it's games, without even logic, would you believe?
Let's just flow together, forgetting everything else.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
Your parade makes me purple, it makes me thin as an alphabet, I don't know, I don't wanna understand. I'm an estimation, I'm over and not in great abundance. Don't defend me, I'm not the header atop your letter.
Open me, I'm like your chimney, inside your mouth I am the lips you dip your tongue through, growing with sensation. See me and seam me to threads and tow me through your ****** lines-
little piece of flesh
Just a little dance, Just a little romance
Keep me in your pants let me be your postcard
I'll float across your eyelids.
Let me know your name
You can taste my skin. You can see my seams bend, my hours grow a little tired
Lifting up your dress, I can taste your pastes, your pastel belle comes floating at me sideways.
Ours and again, you ask me, "is it a nightmare?"
You ask me, "is it a car crash?" You say, "I can feel you breathing." This is not a spell, there's nothing left, not even a little lie I can play with in my fingers, you say, "is it the moon in the stars." And I stop you from ruining the sound of words to preserve a moment. Something a silence and a dollar doesn't buy you. I ask, " is this you my love? You're an imaginary process I'm never going to be interested in prosecuting perfectly. I'm not- an extroverted invert, a spirit floating in the corner of your eyes. I'm over zealous, a zealot, full of youth, using grief to keep your eyes
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
*For your happiness I'll move mountains
If I fail, you my world will know I tried
My desire is like natures spring and fountain
None in history with passage of time ever dried
When lost in the oceans, I'll be your radar
To point the vessel of your heart in the right direction
And when you need to climb, I'll be your ladder
When ailed I hope to be your prescription or injection
When your enemies close in on you,I'll be your shield
I'll light your way when darkness takes over your universe
Because our attraction is more powerful than magnetic field
I'll be the rail to the train of your life,ceteris paribus
I'll walk all the miles of your voyage's estimation
Nothing would please me more than sharing your destination*
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
I am my poems
Embodying my essence
Creating images
Tasting my nostalgia
Recalling the taste of my journey
Feeling the colors
This is my painting
My painting filled with words
The short novel and sneak peak
Unscrutinized, irrevocable, conjuring estimation towards the plain notions of idioms
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Lets talk relative, Lets talk about size
The way we perceive space from the optical eye
Every night i ponder with thought look into the sky
The fact we are microdots in the universe i cant justify
Its hard to begin, it takes me a while
Out there is potential, it brings me a smile
The way stars cluster, planets form with a style
The amount of planets we find the list seems to pile
Who nose whats about, will this answer ever be solved?
Will we find other life or seek to dissolve?
We become greater everyday we seek to evolve
Its a mystery in time hope to resolve.
What i'm trying to conclude needs to be told
Without being rude, i let this story unfold.
There a estimation, with no exaggeration.
Of a 100 to 200 billion galaxy's in our universe
Also there is a 100 to 200 billion stars in each galaxy
So for better or worse, before i get confined to a hearse
I can get out and explore and defy the laws of gravity.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
Cancer.
A word no one wants to hear.
Unless, of course you are talking about the astrological sign where it is said for you to be known for your loyalty, caring, and adapting qualities.
Cancer.
A word I never wanted to hear.
It was August.
My father and I had grown apart, once again.
We could never agree on anything, it didn’t matter what it was.
Gay rights, politics, the existence of God, these were only some of the topics we argued about, constantly.
I remember saying things like, “I hate you!” and “I wish you were out of my life forever.”
“I hope you die.”
I hope you die.
Four simple words. Horrible words.
Words I only said once out of anger.
Add never between you and die and you completely change the meaning.
Later on, I would wish that I had added the never.
I was listening to the song “I’m Gonna Love You Through It” at full volume trying to block out my mother and fathers fight.
Only now do I see the irony.
My parents left the room.
I listened as hard as I possibly could only to make out the words, Malignant Lymphoma.
My world would completely change that August.
They say that when someone is diagnosed with cancer, everyone around them is as well. I never understood that, it wasn’t me that was dying, until I saw him come home from his first cancer treatment.
He was exhausted, my father, the man of steel could barely stand.
My life became morphed into the what ifs. What if he doesn’t make it? What if I lose my dad?
My life became mutated into a twisted picture as I tried to find every answer in text books and statistics.
18,990 people die from this cancer every year.
My dad always joked he would never make it to see 51…he was 49.
My mom broke down, often, gasping in air as if she would never breathe in again.
As if, she had forgotten how.
I stopped breathing. I had no estimation or approximation of when I would breathe in again.
Malignant Lymphoma. Cancer. Dying.
Those three words were all that I could think about.
I wanted to escape. I wanted to pretend like I was clueless. They say that ignorance is bliss.
I think that was about the time I stopped believing in God.
That night, as I tried to bring myself to pray, the words got stuck in my throat.
I couldn’t understand why.
Soon, treatment began, was unsuccessful, and now the cancer is spreading. .
That’s the thing about lymphoma.
It doesn’t go away.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
our generation, drenched in nostalgia
clawing, desperate for a time we don’t even remember
romanticise the past, the simple times of genuine human emotion
no pressure when the only thing that mattered was pure devotion
to writing, art, travelling, dreams…
feeling free like the beatniks we hold up so high in our estimation
put on a pedestal, the lives we envy and wish we could lead
no expectations
whatever we once believed in
it’s been stripped away
and now we lie here naked and shamed
"a respectable career is the only way"
rapid change left us cold staring at static
blank screens
we’ve been born into the age of the void
no empathy remaining, no way or means
of expressing ourselves accurately
anxiety and sadness dominates
technically we’re developed but our minds are broken, falling into disrepair
in the end we just don’t ******* care
we just want to remember how to feel without numb indifference
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC