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"impulsiveness" poems
I am BPD. I am the demon that possesses your mind, I am the ghost of all you want to leave behind. I am the monster that will make you unstable, The voice in your head making you suicidal. I am your heart making your emotions intense, I am your mind, muddled and making no sense. I am your brain making you neurotic, With the perfect balance of a handful of psychotic. I am your self-esteem making you feel worthless, I will make sure you feel that you have no purpose. I am your impulsiveness making you act reckless; Your need to harm yourself is becoming endless. I am your soul feeling neglected, You feel it very deeply because you need to be protected. I am your extreme paranoia, Making you live in a shell, I’m a merciless destroyer. I am your fear of rejection, you will outburst at the slightest disaffection. So, I am BPD and I will ruin your life, I will cover you in scars made by the blade of a knife.
0
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
Borderline Personality Disorder
I came from a generation that stuck in between the nostalgia, The grandeur of aesthetics and hypocrisy in the genitalia Too many amateurs which they called pretenders Too many pretenders which they called profounders Of Artistry in every countries culture. I am not the most impressive writer just like Shakespeare Neither close to the modern writers on which they give praise My age is a few leaps away to the end of my youth, At twenty, I found words of impulsiveness and courage elicit from my mouth. I am just someone who embodied the face of my leagues They call me the soul of their generation as they please I may write pretentiously, but I speak for the marginalized I dream for my inked piece would reach them, I hope to get them amazed I am the soul my generation A little careless with my actions, telling others I'm brave A little wild, yet I screamed that nothing bounds me A little innocent with life's surprises, and so I apologized and called it as a mistake. I'm a few every people that you've met. I carry the pieces of the individuals who have touched me I flow like the river which takes parts of the fallen objects in me. Vulnerable to anything, Easy to gain what the heart desires Misunderstood like the innocent criminals, Goes along with changes I'm maybe everything they thought I am I'm maybe someone you never thought I am Or nothing in with your choices But one thing's for sure; I'm free.
0
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
Poem #3: The soul of my generation
Mirror Mirror on the wall Do you see what I see I see her The one who carried me For her vulnerability For her arrogance For her joys For her impulsiveness For her motherhood For her individuality For her fearlessness And I see her The one who still carries me For her adaptiveness For her honesty For her pious soul For her warmness For her empathy For her leadership For her abundant love I am a part of her and her together Do you see that in me too?
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
I See Her
There's a devil in me Her name is Marianne. She's my impulsiveness my scorn my haughtiness and, yes, my insanity. If I'm the balloon the boy let go of, she's the one who murmured to let me go- convinced I could fly But-   I CAN NOT FLY. It is a simple thing. I am no bird. I am no balloon. or maybe i am. but I'm a penguin. or a thin-skinned animal balloon. Perhaps I can run, jump, dance I CAN NOT FLY.  So I must beg the boy, *     don't           let go              of me. please. i'll float too high and       P O P!* Ah, but panting into his other ear is  Marianne. **I wants to try out my wings! I want to  kiss that boy, slap those ******* steal a car, run away to Europe, become a ninja, ride a dragon, and on and on and on. Just let go.** *Let's get this straight, Marianne. I CANNOT FLY. The boy?   doesn't love us Those *******   are people too. That car?    is not ours. Europe?    is expensive Become a ninja?    we're afraid of the dark! Ride a dragon?    they aren't real! and we're afraid of heights! And on and on and on?    where would you stop? I CAN'T FLY! I'm a penguin! I am charming         sweet         graceful, even But-   We will not live your dreams.     please.                        don't let go.* she gasps, **I want to dance! I want to sing! I want to shout! I want to laugh! I want to love! I WANT IT ALL!!! Fling us free, up into the blue yonder! Live fast and die young! We'll live forever-ever-ever! YOU CAN FLY! WE'LL SOAR ABOVE EVERYONE!** i whisper *no.    hang on.    don't let me go.    hold me close. i can not fly*
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Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (or Civil War)
There's a devil in me Her name is Marianne. She's my impulsiveness my scorn my haughtiness and, yes, my insanity. If I'm the balloon the boy let go of, she's the one who murmured to let me go- convinced I could fly But-   I CAN NOT FLY. It is a simple thing. I am no bird. I am no balloon. or maybe i am. but I'm a penguin. or a thin-skinned animal balloon. Perhaps I can run, jump, dance I CAN NOT FLY.  So I must beg the boy, *     don't           let go              of me. please. i'll float too high and       P O P!* Ah, but panting into his other ear is  Marianne. **I wants to try out my wings! I want to  kiss that boy, slap those ******* steal a car, run away to Europe, become a ninja, ride a dragon, and on and on and on. Just let go.** *Let's get this straight, Marianne. I CANNOT FLY. The boy?   doesn't love us Those *******   are people too. That car?    is not ours. Europe?    is expensive Become a ninja?    we're afraid of the dark! Ride a dragon?    they aren't real! and we're afraid of heights! And on and on and on?    where would you stop? I CAN'T FLY! I'm a penguin! I am charming         sweet         graceful, even But-   We will not live your dreams.     please.                        don't let go.* she gasps, **I want to dance! I want to sing! I want to shout! I want to laugh! I want to love! I WANT IT ALL!!! Fling us free, up into the blue yonder! Live fast and die young! We'll live forever-ever-ever! YOU CAN FLY! WE'LL SOAR ABOVE EVERYONE!** i whisper *no.    hang on.    don't let me go.    hold me close. i can not fly*
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81
it’s just how it was. and so things ended up the way they did. we were quite a pair; what with my impulsiveness and your rationality. as i took a step back, each time i recognized the danger in your eyes, flickers unleashed. this rendezvous meant meeting somewhere a little nearer than halfway, not without leaving a breadcrumb trail of weariness. see, we didn’t get around to the part of burning bridges-yellow and orange and blue flames standing tall. neither did we try dousing ourselves in gasoline just so it could stay alive, sparks like flirtatious moths attune to life. all that we’ve resorted to was crossing the bridge and rightly so. for all we ever wanted was to learn the language the city lights spoke upon the ripples delving into atlantis’ reach. there wasn’t a need to get past the platform, plainly standing there already felt right. this is what those weeks were all for. open-door kisses and treacherous things in the dark. the laughing fits and slow dancing in your balcony at 2am, acoustics faint on your speakers were just ways we came up with in order to **** time. things ended up the way they did. your messages left unopened, my secrets i’ve bared onto your lips and your tongue was the ink you’ve etched yours with on my skin. for a while it meant more than that, we meant more than just a jet’s smoke trail of fleeting stars crash landing upon reality. we could only get to pretend for so long that the crash wouldn’t occur even as we’ve made an agreement that we’d still be alright and remain with an exchange of warm smiles and inviting eyes like the first encounter. but pretending could only sit so well in my chest but it can’t quite counteract this particular feeling rushing with intensity, an outrage that’s only worsened as those exchanges are kept. so forgive me if i couldn’t keep contact, if all your calls go to voicemail-and i try not to listen to them but ultimately fail. the only compromise i aid to is to not reply. that’s just how it was. things ended up the way they did. the passionate flames surrounded us keeping a close watch so they wouldn't engulf us we were just bridge watchers content on not going beyond nor under -“bridge watchers.”
0
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 10:18 AM UTC
bridge watchers
it’s just how it was. and so things ended up the way they did. we were quite a pair; what with my impulsiveness and your rationality. as i took a step back, each time i recognized the danger in your eyes, flickers unleashed. this rendezvous meant meeting somewhere a little nearer than halfway, not without leaving a breadcrumb trail of weariness. see, we didn’t get around to the part of burning bridges-yellow and orange and blue flames standing tall. neither did we try dousing ourselves in gasoline just so it could stay alive, sparks like flirtatious moths attune to life. all that we’ve resorted to was crossing the bridge and rightly so. for all we ever wanted was to learn the language the city lights spoke upon the ripples delving into atlantis’ reach. there wasn’t a need to get past the platform, plainly standing there already felt right. this is what those weeks were all for. open-door kisses and treacherous things in the dark. the laughing fits and slow dancing in your balcony at 2am, acoustics faint on your speakers were just ways we came up with in order to **** time. things ended up the way they did. your messages left unopened, my secrets i’ve bared onto your lips and your tongue was the ink you’ve etched yours with on my skin. for a while it meant more than that, we meant more than just a jet’s smoke trail of fleeting stars crash landing upon reality. we could only get to pretend for so long that the crash wouldn’t occur even as we’ve made an agreement that we’d still be alright and remain with an exchange of warm smiles and inviting eyes like the first encounter. but pretending could only sit so well in my chest but it can’t quite counteract this particular feeling rushing with intensity, an outrage that’s only worsened as those exchanges are kept. so forgive me if i couldn’t keep contact, if all your calls go to voicemail-and i try not to listen to them but ultimately fail. the only compromise i aid to is to not reply. that’s just how it was. things ended up the way they did. the passionate flames surrounded us keeping a close watch so they wouldn't engulf us we were just bridge watchers content on not going beyond nor under -“bridge watchers.”
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19
Can you smell the little pastries cooking down the hall Can you hear the sound as my heart begins to crawl Interlaced corridors of cordial metaphor A coffee cake pace in a curious position set a forth Can you see how sensual measures make me shake Can you feel that you are my love's potentate Lost in a scatter-brained impulsiveness to force annealing Chasing that radiant love that feels like constant healing Knowing that it is pouring in half of your soul Knowing that equally given will always equal a whole Giving all the potency of love a spirit can possess Realizing that Love was never really a test But more falling into a breathtaking abyss Lost in the epicness of her every kiss
0
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
Forever pleasantly lost
Misguided with glazed eyes, they gleam in an effort to encourage impulsiveness. I no longer have a desire to be the windows inside of you. Admiring a lavender sky, sunsets continue to die, plagued by the thought of night creeping in again. I am vulnerable to the pale moonlight. You once told me, 'There's a cracked home that you carry inside of you.' No longer am I the thoughts filling your head, that I'm the cure to your sickness. Isolated myself in heavy sheets of sadness, suffocating- in an uninvited guest room, just some extra space. A breeze persistently tugging, the tattered curtains. Someday, you'll understand- I was never your home. Never becoming a garden, never a lonesome white gate. Paint chips from my decaying bones, from years of damage. Been here before a ghost to these creaking stairs. Fixing everyone else's homes, a loose floorboard bares secrets, but I continue to keep things just to have something to hold. Stairs cave, with each step I take. I end as it begins; your body becomes an earthquake, the house crumbles, words evolve into raspy whispers Damage has been done, marks are on the wall, as demons claw. They're ripping through your veins as I feel the foundation in my fingertips. The walls won't be here tomorrow, no longer holding everyone's hands, or breathe through these polluted lungs. I've begun to feel a need to repent and with every move I make, my happiness is spent.
0
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
Renovations
you think one day my memories will fade away from your life, like i did what a dream you have you forget one thing it was not my choice to leave you it was your impulsiveness who drift us apart
0
Aug 5, 2023
Aug 5, 2023 at 7:50 AM UTC
memories.
This silent stewing atmosphere, Air beginning to reach a boil, Only smart amphibians jump from comforting waters Into the oblivion of impulsiveness and Throwing all things known Into the fleeting wind, Breaking free from freedom, Finding old traditions in new lands, Erasing memories, and forging new ones-- The silence. The quiet pitter of precipitating plagues Upon desert soils Where magnificent poisons Of stasis and spoils Of capitalist endeavors Piling upon one another to create Monuments to their golden idols, Solar winds tearing at biological fibers-- The Storm begins soon. And I-- A wandering spirit, tossed playfully back and forth by the impulses of time and space-- I arrest this bright-eyed idolatry, Escaping into fragmented mysteries Awaiting me on foreign soil, Not away from pain and war Famine and dismay Ineptitudes of a dying human race: But simply away-- where the golden afternoon’s lazy sunbeams will meet my smiling cheek at angles different and unknown. Mystery within Mystery, I open the door . . .
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
The Storm
She closes her eyes to block out the sadness Everywhere there is red Raw intense passion false courage Encouraging impulsiveness Red   Evoking deep emotional and spiritual connotations. Red in her dreams Is she lacking energy. feeling tired or lethargic. Red the color of danger violence blood shame rejection or ****** impulses and urges.   Perhaps it's  time for her to stop and think about her  actions Open her eyes and see the beauty of red Red warm and positive exciting emotions  take action. spirit and leadership qualities promoting   ambious   determinations. Red Overcome the shyness and remove the sadness
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
RED
Divinity is an infinite concept- never ending and never beginning. Before creation there was the Divine and after attainment there is the Divine. To move within the Divine Way is to move within eternity. Within the eternally passionate and spontaneous movement of Divinity is the fullness of omnipotence. To follow the Divine Spirit is to live within the shadow of creation. It is the ecstasy of “Buddhahood attained” and then laughed at in the ****** of eternity. It is Enlightenment or Holiness always, then steadfastly shunned in the decadence of their implications. To move within the oneness of the Divine is to perceive the sameness of things, but things are things and to say that they have no meaning, or that all meaning is one meaning, is to be lost within the ocean of the void- the indulgence of omnipotence. To follow the Divine Spirit is to understand the deeper meaning of things. All worlds of the escapist and the realist are both real and unreal, for the Divine is Enlightenment, but illusionary in its idealistic terms. It is the great river on its never ending journey to the sea, but to reach the ocean is to be lost, to cease to be, for it is always within the journey that one finds meaning and never at journey’s end. Those that do not know the harmony of the Divine live in materialistic emptiness. I WANT, I WANT, I WANT – a childish form of avarice, of impulsiveness and sentimentality, a continuous grasping, a world full of desire – the very foundations of fear and affliction. Those that proclaim the Divine find nothing but discriminative idealism. I AM, I AM, I AM – the indulgence of pride and love – an idealism based on a relativistic compassion, concealing in truth a desire for self-worship. For those who travel in tune with the harmonics of the Divine- IT IS, IT IS, IT IS – spirit reflects its own reward. The bonds of illusion fall as leaves from a tree in autumn; all is right within the world for Spirit moves within.
0
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 5:10 AM UTC
Infinite Concepts
Divinity is an infinite concept- never ending and never beginning. Before creation there was the Divine and after attainment there is the Divine. To move within the Divine Way is to move within eternity. Within the eternally passionate and spontaneous movement of Divinity is the fullness of omnipotence. To follow the Divine Spirit is to live within the shadow of creation. It is the ecstasy of “Buddhahood attained” and then laughed at in the ****** of eternity. It is Enlightenment or Holiness always, then steadfastly shunned in the decadence of their implications. To move within the oneness of the Divine is to perceive the sameness of things, but things are things and to say that they have no meaning, or that all meaning is one meaning, is to be lost within the ocean of the void- the indulgence of omnipotence. To follow the Divine Spirit is to understand the deeper meaning of things. All worlds of the escapist and the realist are both real and unreal, for the Divine is Enlightenment, but illusionary in its idealistic terms. It is the great river on its never ending journey to the sea, but to reach the ocean is to be lost, to cease to be, for it is always within the journey that one finds meaning and never at journey’s end. Those that do not know the harmony of the Divine live in materialistic emptiness. I WANT, I WANT, I WANT – a childish form of avarice, of impulsiveness and sentimentality, a continuous grasping, a world full of desire – the very foundations of fear and affliction. Those that proclaim the Divine find nothing but discriminative idealism. I AM, I AM, I AM – the indulgence of pride and love – an idealism based on a relativistic compassion, concealing in truth a desire for self-worship. For those who travel in tune with the harmonics of the Divine- IT IS, IT IS, IT IS – spirit reflects its own reward. The bonds of illusion fall as leaves from a tree in autumn; all is right within the world for Spirit moves within.
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6
anger explosive anger with all the grace of a submarine through tar unexplainable it appears from nowhere ready to shatter any good fortune the world decides to bestow upon me sneaking up upon me slowly lingers around forever and ever haunting my existence till death do us part this explosiveness impulsiveness frustration gathers nowhere to escape to imminent doom frustration forever tied up just pure anger I'm sorry I'm so sorry...
0
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
nova
death has come to greet me, tell my loved ones i am going, ask them for the last time, to come and meet me, tell her not to haste, ask her to wait, for i have a mother, who standing at the door awaits, my brother must be, watching my way, we haven't talked for several days, in its impulsiveness , it will not hear, my father crying, he is standing near, death has come to greet me, i want her not to hurry, but it will not listen to me, so let me embrace her happily, for after such a long time, death has come to greet me....
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Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
death has come to greet me
I sailed a boat on the cloud of dreams Fishing for those elusive moments, Some call them dreams. I waded through clouds of silent white Where all that was caught were wisps Of fleeting wishes that never were delusions But as white turned to lightness of grey Then to the throws of harsh reality, as ideas Became electric striking around me. I waded through the clouds of turbulent Moments, impulsiveness struck upon Me from above, and I leapt from the safely. I was in calm white sinking in to oblivion, Only my thoughts kept me afloat, then I Relaxed, let go, and sank into nothingness. I awoke, confusion clouded me as if recalling That moment a sank beneath, and my thought Was deluged, but I am here , I wish I was there.
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Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
In A Cloud Of Confusion
A reckless nature, the seed of disaster Impulsive at heart, chaos flowing In a world of mayhem I am master My first instinct always showing Who cares it's not my bullet bit All because I feel like it The universe even knows the truth That to stay alive we need chaos To create disorder and keep our youth Destroy harmony, the fool's oasis I hate this world, every piece meant to fit All because I feel like it Entropy a euphemism for discord Actions meant to dictated by instinct A message so loud it brings down the Lord From his seat he creates order so distinct I feel compelled to make even his will submit All because I feel like it It’s madness that’s come over me To want to break the perfect machinery That moves like a mind in harmony It’s a want for a change in scenery For a need is too easy to permit All because I feel like it Is it a sin to live and act on a whim? To forgo all thought and just do Thinking leads to an outcome grim Even if logic says I’ll come through I’d rather blank and go for the hit All because I feel like it Impulsiveness is known to be for fools But for me it’s an escape from reality For I become different than the tools That move the machine so carefree I continue to act my way, never quit All because I feel like it
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Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
Impulse
He's headed to the roller rink She's headed downtown To see no one to be around nobody a perfect night to themselves doing nothing for nobody. He sits in his car the music blaring softly sighing hoping to drown out the latest saga Why must others make their problems his problems. See, he has his own problems But he doesn't put them on other people. He prefers to purge then on paper Get them out and forget about them Because these things aren't important When the night is cool and it's about to rain And the lights stream by like bolts speeding down a empty road. Wanta Drown it out dance in the moonlight and shout shake his hands whip his hair ridiculously. Forget the world for awhile walk alone at night, anything to extend this quiet anything not to go inside. She's biking in Noho It's 2am and it's that California cool outside. Riding with no handlebars playing some Dorian concept, burning a natural high. Another sleepless night remedied by impulsiveness and exercise. She don't want to go home seems like this bike path could stretch till the end. And anyone who stares is just a pedal away a pedal behind makes her feel so safe. Wanta Drown it out dance in the moonlight and shout shake her hands whip her hair ridiculously. Forget the world for awhile walk alone at night, anything to extend this quiet anything never to go inside. He hears a song nostalgic it travels him in time, head back he closes his eyes - trying to remember what it felt like to ride open and exposed to the elements, his headphones in jamming. She feels the bright of headlights. just one more block to go, her hands cold and forehead sweating. Her thighs burning, her back aching. Her hairs standing, her face clammy. Wanta Drown it out dance in the moonlight and shout shake her hands whip her hair ridiculously. Forget the world for awhile walk alone at night, anything to extend this quiet anything not to go inside.
0
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 11:04 PM UTC
Rollar rink
He's headed to the roller rink She's headed downtown To see no one to be around nobody a perfect night to themselves doing nothing for nobody. He sits in his car the music blaring softly sighing hoping to drown out the latest saga Why must others make their problems his problems. See, he has his own problems But he doesn't put them on other people. He prefers to purge then on paper Get them out and forget about them Because these things aren't important When the night is cool and it's about to rain And the lights stream by like bolts speeding down a empty road. Wanta Drown it out dance in the moonlight and shout shake his hands whip his hair ridiculously. Forget the world for awhile walk alone at night, anything to extend this quiet anything not to go inside. She's biking in Noho It's 2am and it's that California cool outside. Riding with no handlebars playing some Dorian concept, burning a natural high. Another sleepless night remedied by impulsiveness and exercise. She don't want to go home seems like this bike path could stretch till the end. And anyone who stares is just a pedal away a pedal behind makes her feel so safe. Wanta Drown it out dance in the moonlight and shout shake her hands whip her hair ridiculously. Forget the world for awhile walk alone at night, anything to extend this quiet anything never to go inside. He hears a song nostalgic it travels him in time, head back he closes his eyes - trying to remember what it felt like to ride open and exposed to the elements, his headphones in jamming. She feels the bright of headlights. just one more block to go, her hands cold and forehead sweating. Her thighs burning, her back aching. Her hairs standing, her face clammy. Wanta Drown it out dance in the moonlight and shout shake her hands whip her hair ridiculously. Forget the world for awhile walk alone at night, anything to extend this quiet anything not to go inside.
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93
Merry Christmas to Fitness But mostly to Sickness. Merry Christmas to Business But mostly to Holiness. Merry Christmas to Joyfulness But mostly to Loneliness. Merry Christmas to misses But also to every mistress. Merry Christmas to everyone who is religious But also to those who are superstitious. Merry Christmas to impulsiveness But mostly to wiseness. Thus, Best Wishes for All: I have plentiful. Only wonder if the etymology might be 'Mary kiss my ... ' Surely not! Forgive my Rudeness! And so Merry Christmas to Rudeness But mostly to Forgiveness.
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Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 5:56 AM UTC
MERRY CHRISTMAS
This trap is familiar, full of integrity and decorum, I wished I could turn it into a safe spot. I loved how it looked, and for once I pushed my impulsiveness into a bleakness, so I couldn't sense where this pain was shrieking from.
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Aug 5, 2023
Aug 5, 2023 at 7:23 PM UTC
The Sacred Trap.
How do you tell the difference between your head and your heart? What the heart wants the head wants not The tricks the mind plays on your eyes dancing shadows in the corners As you try not to mourn these unanswered questions. answers always just that little bit                         out of reach flitting in and out of peripheral vision. You and I are pawns in the game more commonly known as life. Indecisiveness and mixed feelings caused by a lack of impulsiveness because I have been thinking for too long. Act and then reflect. Do and then think. In the moment, is how to live. With passion. Oh god, live with passion.
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Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
How to Live
Remember when the rain was beating on the windows blurring out the parking lot surrounding us; secluding, isolating us inside steamy windows. Between curfews and the length of the "movie" we weren't wasting any time. Clothes came off quickly like the breaths we gave each other inhale       exhale      inhale      exhale it was a collaborative effort. Your lips tasted like the mountain dew in the front seat and my breath tasted vulnerable on your tongue. We gave each other all we were willing to give and it was innocent and it was impulsiveness, over and over, and it was the light in our eyes                the designs on our fingertips                that called the shots. fast forward There is still rain tapping on the widows, but it's not fully blurring out the man walking to his car 100 feet away. Keeping track of our routine time limit we knew the moves we knew the drills. But apparently I'm not so "innocent" anymore and that bothers you. I am no longer on the same page as you and I no longer hold your same perspective. Or maybe I'm just realizing that they were always different. But you can no longer seem to match my breathing. You can no longer seem to draw the same entrancing pictures on the inside of my cheek. Who knows when you stopped fully caring, but your radiating desires won't let you stop touching me. Won't let you say that you no longer feel the warmth our bodies ignited. And you thought I wouldn't notice, but I **** well did. I could tell from the flat-soda taste of your lips                  from the rough, jagged edges of your fingertips but was still offering you my own. I saw it coming, but was still offering you parts of me. Hell, I probably would've given you everything, if you had asked. now as I sit here watching my "innocence" continue to disappear like wisps of smoke I can't decide if I truly regret letting it leave from innocence to individuality I can't decide if I ruined something good or decided I wanted something better. Now don't get me wrong, what we had was good. It was young and it was new but it was fragile and it grew in two opposite directions and lets face it, neither of us had a map neither of us knew how to get back on the track that we thought we wanted. Let's face it, neither of us remembered to bring along a bottle of mountain dew so that we could pretend nothing had changed so that we could pretend that we didn't think that we deserved better.
0
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
From Innocence to Individuality
Remember when the rain was beating on the windows blurring out the parking lot surrounding us; secluding, isolating us inside steamy windows. Between curfews and the length of the "movie" we weren't wasting any time. Clothes came off quickly like the breaths we gave each other inhale       exhale      inhale      exhale it was a collaborative effort. Your lips tasted like the mountain dew in the front seat and my breath tasted vulnerable on your tongue. We gave each other all we were willing to give and it was innocent and it was impulsiveness, over and over, and it was the light in our eyes                the designs on our fingertips                that called the shots. fast forward There is still rain tapping on the widows, but it's not fully blurring out the man walking to his car 100 feet away. Keeping track of our routine time limit we knew the moves we knew the drills. But apparently I'm not so "innocent" anymore and that bothers you. I am no longer on the same page as you and I no longer hold your same perspective. Or maybe I'm just realizing that they were always different. But you can no longer seem to match my breathing. You can no longer seem to draw the same entrancing pictures on the inside of my cheek. Who knows when you stopped fully caring, but your radiating desires won't let you stop touching me. Won't let you say that you no longer feel the warmth our bodies ignited. And you thought I wouldn't notice, but I **** well did. I could tell from the flat-soda taste of your lips                  from the rough, jagged edges of your fingertips but was still offering you my own. I saw it coming, but was still offering you parts of me. Hell, I probably would've given you everything, if you had asked. now as I sit here watching my "innocence" continue to disappear like wisps of smoke I can't decide if I truly regret letting it leave from innocence to individuality I can't decide if I ruined something good or decided I wanted something better. Now don't get me wrong, what we had was good. It was young and it was new but it was fragile and it grew in two opposite directions and lets face it, neither of us had a map neither of us knew how to get back on the track that we thought we wanted. Let's face it, neither of us remembered to bring along a bottle of mountain dew so that we could pretend nothing had changed so that we could pretend that we didn't think that we deserved better.
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love is something positively crazy. love decides everything in this world. it doesn't have any conditions or boundaries. we don't know exactly what love is and where it comes from, but one thing is sure; we are nothing without love! there are times when we feel shy and timid, when we are afraid of expressing the love we feel. being afraid of embarrassing the other person or ourselves, we hesitate, procrastinate, and withdraw the will to say the actual words "i love you". one can say "i love you" in many different ways: by means of pleasant presents and little notes and letters full of kind words and a type of enchantment, wide smiles with hope and loyalty, and yes. sometimes even through tears. sometimes we show our love when we are quiet and do not say a word, at the other times — we speak loud and freely to express it. sometimes we show our love by impulsiveness. while plenty of times we have to show our love when we forgive someone, regardless the damage they caused, regardless of them being what others call 'beyond repair'. the problem with our world is that people don't learn to listen to one another. they hear the words, but they don't listen to the actions that accompany the words, and do not mind the expression on the face, even in front of us. we have to listen to see love in and around us. if we listen attentively we will...
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Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
love is something
*swinging in silence consolidated within that maximised impulsiveness keeps on growing*
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Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
Impulsiveness