"passively" poems
If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
"Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
"Okay"
Is off-brand raisin bran
"Okay"
Is how you say life is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die
"Okay"
Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong
"Okay"
Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
"Okay"
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
"Okay"
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
"Okay"
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
"Okay"
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
"Okay"
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
"Okay"
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
"Okay"
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"
They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
"Okay"
Okay?
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
When did things change so much?
When did I get so encapsulated
Into the world of technology?
When did I stop listening
To myself and my own thoughts
And instead add another view
To some article or YouTube video
Just to reach some spoon-fed "opinion"?
When did we stop engaging
In life and with ourselves?
When did playing video games turn to
Watching other people play them online
Numbing our brains to the world
And "filling" our social needs digitally?
When did watching television turn into
Binge-watching an entire series in one sitting?
With this much constant stimulation
It's no wonder we're bored so easily
And that no one goes outside anymore
And that I don't feel alive anymore
Because one of the first things I do
When I get home from work or the gym
Is turn on the smart tv so it can warm up
Because the apps on it take time to load
And I already know that my free time
Will be spent in front of that screen
Lately I've been nervous about
Eventually moving in with new people
Primarily because I spend a lot of my time
Passively using the television
I was concerned with how we'd balance our usage
Instead of considering changing the way I spend my time
When did I start placing my use of technology
Above my own self-care?
When I spend hours watching YouTube
But still forget to take a shower sometimes
And I truly wonder if my recent urges
To leave the state to work on a farm for a month
Are more indicative of some deep desire
To unplug and reset my energy and priorities
Than my interest in agriculture or
Learning to live off of the land
When did I start to feel the need
To take such drastic measures
To change something so simple
Something I could choose to disengage with
At the simple touch of a button?
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
When your mind is shattered
Your eyes are blinded
There is pain everywhere
you go
Don't give up and
Don't give in
When the wheel of fortune
is stuck at 6
No hope remains
Don't give up
Don't give in
Noon will be coming around
again
When loneliness is
your only friend
and
it keeps calling you names
Don't give up
and
Don't give in
There are times
when life is
ablaze with horrors
but
Don't give up
and Don't give in
Those that survive
are those that find meaning
those that passively
take to their bed
are bound
to
perish
Don't give up
Don't give in
When the law's
got your name
and no payment can be
made
and
you have to go
along with their plans
that have been laid,
Inside, where you hide
Don't give up and
Don't give in.
Time only stops
once
Don't give up
Don't give in.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
Often times people say go to the gym, “It’ll make you happy, and you’ll feel energized!”
These are some of the things I’ve experienced or thoughts I’ve manifested over my teenage years. Ahh yes great ol’ puberty! Onto adulthood, yikes!
Go to the gym and lose that extra weight that your family and so called “friends” have been passively judging you for.
Go to the gym, but don’t lift weights because you’ll get bulky, and no one will ever love you if you look like a female Hulk.
Go to the gym. Go to the gym. I hear this left and right. But I fear that I’ll embarrass myself and that everyone is watching me.
Anxiety and panic attacks hold me back. And what happens when that clinically depressed person is told time and time again to “just work out” and “get out of bed; it’ll make you feel great?” What if they just came down from a manic episode and crashed? What will people say then?
Well I know what I want to say:
This isn’t as simple as the morning blues or that feeling you have after listening to a sad song that reminds you of your past. (Not to disqualify those emotions whatsoever.)
Depression is the ruminating thoughts that no one loves you or ever will. It is feeling so empty that your appetite is nonexistent and your motivation to do what you once loved is gone.
Anxiety is holding your breath and forgetting to breathe, so you just sit there in pain until finally someone or something reminds you to release.
Release all that you’ve built up. Stop the isolation, and share what’s on your mind. It’s not easy. Trust me I know.
Two days ago I went to the gym, and yesterday I went to the gym. Can you guess what I did today? I went to the gym despite every fiber in my being telling me I couldn’t.
I had the support of my mom and sister. Find a gym buddy. Start small because all the machines and strong people can look intimidating. But they all started somewhere and now you can too.
Make a goal. Something that is not too small or too large. For me, I’m training for a 5K that’s in the beginning of May. It will be challenging yet doable.
Sometimes none of us knows what we’re doing, and that’s the beauty and challenges of life. Don’t quit after one try. Your journey is now starting its new chapter. Stay in the present moment, and keep going. I believe in you.
Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 1:14 AM UTC
Both latter and former, contrary and congruent
Neither gas nor solid, the river moves fluid.
No end and no beginning, just water moving… swimming…
A formless former that is a powerful latter
Contradiction through symmetry and space within matter
Passively energetic as potential becomes kinetic
Transparently reflective and silently phonetic
Thermally dynamic and fluidly frantic
The waters maintain a static chaos through mathematical mechanics.
Mechanically architected and architecturally mechanic
Water seems the perfect medium for analysis of a dynamic.
Dynamic existence and persistent resistance
Statically chaotic seems the architect’s insistence.
Equilibriomatic, with addition subtractive
Empirical measures fail to analyze the passive.
What simply is, simply is… Invincible to mimicry or microcosmic reenactment.
Experimental methods seek to unify the synonymous
Attempting to prove the objective with a subjective hypothesis.
Learn from the water, let its metaphor be imminent….
For the divine externality lies not without, but within it.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
In the turbulence of a Storm
My heart rests upon a Rock
In a place where the grass is long
Swaying passively to a breeze
In a place where the earth is warm
Lit eternally by a furnace
In a place where a stoic Rock
Submits to its desires for me
In a place where the frozen rain
Melts away in an instant
Dissolving the hovering myths of pain
To free my lonely heart yet again
This is a place for love to grow
Forever, together and more
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
But you're untouchable,
and though your eyes speak differently;
the invitation is imagined,
the closeness; mere proximity.
I had no instruction,
and no intention to adhere.
You prodded, pulled and pushed
my precautions aside,
passively dealing every blow.
But I couldn't even wound your pride;
You are untouchable.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
your skin
and my eyes,
losing sight,
cross paths once more.
the salty waters
flow for you in rivers
and collect
between your shoulder blades.
pools of unrequited love
sit passively until shaken,
not stirred,
by your body.
and my mind
is elsewhere
but my body
is next to yours
so for now
we ****
and we cry
knowing
that soon
everything
will be gone
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
A phrase that people treat
like a joke, and that people
have failed to recognize the
significance of.
Black is beautiful.
Brown is beautiful.
Over breakfast foods I tried to
discuss how saying,
"I prefer white people/
I find white people attractive"
is subtle racism.
It was a difficult dialogue that
left me sick and empty.
The feeling of being more radical
than everyone around you.
Meeting a black girl who wants to be white,
hearing from all your friends,
"I just prefer white people",
I see, I see a dominant ideology that
places whiteness above everything else,
especially blackness. It is also a lie.
It is definitely racist.
It says that despite all other qualities a person may have,
their skin color holds them back in your eyes.
Instead I am told my ideas exist in a "box".
The reality of what I say is intensely real to me.
If you can't see the racism in yourself,
I'm not holding you to a quality where
you can point it out in others.
If you can openly pinpoint attractiveness to skin color
and just try to cop it out as "preference"
I am going to call you racist.
Black is beautiful.
Brown is beautiful.
You are not "naturally" attracted to white people.
In that phrase, you tell me it is unnatural for you
to be attracted to black people, or any person of color.
It is not natural. You have adopted the dominant ideology.
It is a subtle and now inherent racism.
I am tired of feeling sick because I'm the radical,
however it is a feeling I understand I will never escape.
It will follow me my entire life, I hope.
I'm sick of feeling marginalized because I recognize
sexism exists, and racism exists, and subtlety does not
******* hide it from me, I'm sick sick sick sick sick of it.
**** it though, I'd rather be sick my entire life,
and see the racism in me and others
than not see it, and just passively swallow that ideology.
I'll carry that weight in my guts,
not because I'm a martyr, because I ******* hate everyone;
because I love myself just that much.
I don't deserve to be that person anymore.
Black is beautiful.
Brown is beautiful.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Their lies are prompted
from teleprompters
and executed flaw-fully
from taxpayer's helicopters.
They say we're protecting
foreign daughters
while filtering profits
to desert clad marauders.
Blank faced public
fear conversing religion and politics
while passively electing
lunatics with trigger switches.
Arm the rebels
they bite the hand that feeds
the middle east burns
while America ******* bleeds.
The white, blue and red
camo helmets on their heads
farm fed frat boys
equipped with jackets of lead.
We watched Saddam crumble
his statue beaten with shoes
but the same war we already fought
the puppets now will choose.
Fight the good fight
support the troops.
Drone strikes by twilight
**** the troops.
An Army of one
Sempter Fi
Do or Die
I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket
covered in a flag you valued more than your life.
Our heroes are our welfare
stop blaming single mothers
plastic bags tied around throats
water boarding dissent, it smothers.
**** the Medal of Honor
I'm tearing up your portrait Obama.
How many can benefit from free tuition?
But we give it to those trained to slaughter.
Our priority is the police state
Nazis pretending to tote freedom.
We sip our Americanos
And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading.
**By Evan Ponter
@evanponter**
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
From the moment your born, roll on death.
Alcoholics Unsatisfied sit round in a circle,
soft acquitting eyes passively flow in direction
left and right, never direct nor convicting
always looking out but focused on the void inside.
The moment you step, doomed to fall
Your childhood you say, you weren’t breastfed
Daddy used to drink, its in the blood
the ****** horror that shook the house down
now stands at the door, dormant and waiting
From the moment you speak, its already over.
The excuses rolled out like sludge about you
And your running on empty, just fumes, exhale
Breathe in shame, disgust and self-loathing
These places always polluted with that smell
From the moment you kiss, you know you've lost something
Sit, relax, help yourself to a drink
Plastic cups, plastic chairs, plastic coffee
your marrow may be exposed
but rest assured we, the faceless, nameless few, are here to help.
From the moment you drink, your released.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
I fear that my insight
will be interpreted as "deep"
and in a sense it may be true
since I can feel the loose dirt
being shoveled over my head
by critics and hypocrites
who passively preach
while staring down:
that to be a normal person,
one must close their mind
and rather than retaining
creative ideas,
they should bury them.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
The moth’s kiss, first!
Kiss me as if you made believe
You were not sure, this eve,
How my face, your flower, had pursed
Its petals up; so, here and there
You brush it, till I grow aware
Who wants me, and wide open I burst.
The bee’s kiss, now!
Kiss me as if you enter’d gay
My heart at some noonday,
A bud that dares not disallow
The claim, so all is rendered up,
And passively its shattered cup
Over your head to sleep I bow.
3.2k
“It's all about consistency”
I said one year ago
As I walked into the same room
And put my suitcase on the same bed
As the last time the two of us
Had visited that
Remnant of childhood
My best friend from forever ago
Gave a silent nod
And followed my direction
Returning passively
To the bed opposite me
Now that bed
Is empty
Because he gave up trying
To make the past present;
Gave up trying
To be friends
But I still sit
In the same bed anyway
Because
“It's all about consistency”
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
If I wanted to talk
about the hyper-spiritually-"honest" hippie roommate
who wears his heart on his sleeve and kangols
when he's working
at his cumbersome office
corrupting and invading the minds
of the masses to promote glasses, salad dressing
and laundry detergent,
it would take too much time out of my day
to point out all the hypocritical ********
this meditation obsessed wannabe "writer"
tries to passively fling on others.
He means well, but let' be honest,
all that dope he smokes
probably turned his brain to ashes
as the pile blew away some time ago.
Besides, I'd prefer not to talk about myself.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
What a ridiculous thing
to avoid what makes you hurt.
A refusal to acknowledge
the prickers on the cactus
or the shattered glass gleaming.
But I'm attracted to the green,
to the glitter of the deathly dirt,
calling me unfairly close--
"just look at me."
Like the sharp blades of grass
looking for a whistle,
grip a piece and pull--
I'll slice your palm passively.
I yearn so much,
I cannot stop from pressing a finger
into my bruises to make them stay put.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Oh, I got that feeling again. I’ve been staring at the ceiling again. Letting my heart take flight, as the music reaches its height, taking my thoughts out of minds’ sight. But this feeling I now fight, cannot be controlled. Cannot be moved, overcome, or even forced to fold. Gripping my ever-changing soul and forcing my hands. As my breath leaves my body and my feet forget to stand. Hands pushed to speak through the letters they find. Putting feelings to words that cant seem to speak my mind. Frustrated by my inaction, that passively takes form. In the words I now force to unwilling conform. To these one-inch margins that box in my thoughts, constricting my deepest feelings and simplify life’s plot. All perpetuated by the rhythm, of the ever-spinning fan. Mounted just above my bed, that seems to hypnotize what’s in my head. Threading image to feeling, and my feelings to my words. As the tapestry of us, now resembles fleeing birds. Each winged reminisce that has forever taken flight, a moment in time that will always hold spite. Towards cliffs edge that stands between what the heart seeks. And a mans inability to step beyond its daunting peak. So with time ticking down and our future running by, I stand at a distance and continue our little lie. One living in the shadows of nights eternally pasted on, when passions ignited without though of our coming dawn. Only of the connection made with courage in hand, liquefied to motivate beyond what history had banned. What allies once forbid and witnesses cheered on, inhibition finding wind and politics forgone. Now forced to be nothing more then memories in the sand, as our hourglass approaches empty and my thoughts continue to be fanned. Continue to find rhythm as the blades spin madly by, ticking down to a day when I cannot take the lie. Cannot take this falsehood that pushes me from behind, as I approach that daunting edge of my own terrified mind. So with time in short supply along with my pride, I put black to white and our segregation aside. In the hopes that time stands still for just a moment more, to help you understand that it is you I adore.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
If I could ride a white stallion,
wearing burnished armour of gold.
I would cross the high mountains
for my eyes on your smile to behold.
Across land scorched by suns fire,
droughts parched burning sand,
all this I could defeat and endure,
for a mere touch from your hand.
You have me captivated, enthralled
by means of your charm and your grace.
Entranced and passively subdued,
by beauties smile on your face.
How sad has become this world.
where poetry for a beauty is not news.
I behold the wonder and the beauty,
of my goddess, my passions true muse.
Mar 16, 2022
Mar 16, 2022 at 11:55 AM UTC
He's always with my friends,
And I'm always with them,
And I kind of see him every single day.
The funny thing is this,
That I have a secret wish
To see how long—if—he can stay away.
One Sunday he slept late
And boy, I felt great
Knowing he'd miss church with us together
But smiling with chagrin
I saw him back again
When everyone meet up to eat our dinner.
I mentioned it that night
Before he I left his sight,
And he suggested—with us laughing together—
That someday, both of us
Should, without a fuss,
For fun, passively avoid each other.
Today has not been long
But so far I've been strong
And haven't sought him out, or told him so
But I know that tonight
We'll meet again, alright
And once again the count shall be zero.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
for every action defined
there are infinite that remain
utterly unnamed and
are vitally spoken
in whispers on the
pieces never lived.
these incalculably splintering,
passively accumulating,
terrifyingly ungrasped possibilities
compile and cache
and compress and comeback
in the saddest seconds,
where one can merely conject
their meaningfulness,
realizing that there
is infinity in everything
and therefore potential
even in the kinetic.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
The grown-ups have lied
Your pillow fort can't save you
because the Boogeyman is real
No use jumping under the covers and counting to ten
as you wait for the hand to rise up and pull you under the bed
The bed is no longer a raft adrift at sea
There is no current
There is no rescue party
Just me
And I'm here to tell you that the grown-ups have lied
They'll tell you
"Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you"
but they won't tell you that the Boogeyman is real
He'll come to your room with words
"Nothing" and
****** and
****** and
******
sharpened like arrows in his quiver
He'll stretch the bow of upper and lower lip
and take aim at your Achilles Heel
because he knows how your mother held you as she baptized you in hope
**** doesn't bruise your arm
or push you down the stairs
or tangle its fingers in your scalp and yank your hair
but it'll slump your shoulders
make a mumble out of your laughter
"Freak" never gave anyone a black eye
but it's hung bodies from the rafters
The grown-ups don't want you to know that the Boogeyman is real
because they're the ones who invented the weapons he wields
They don't want you to know that you're defenseless
if all you've got is a cold-shoulder shield
They don't want to have to tell you that you might have to yield
to a monster they created
You are both so much like me
I can't watch them feed you half-truths and sit here passively
You deserve to know what it is that will haunt you
What it is that haunts me
My bed is not safe either
I still check my closets for words I have suppressed
The grown-ups check theirs too but they're protecting you
They just hide it best
See, you and I
We bleed crayola
because we haven't forgotten what it's like to be a kid
We remember popsicles in summertime
and all the naughty things we did
We remember how to cheat at hide-and-seek
and all the corners in which we hid
I know
that there will be days when the Boogeyman will call you
Nothing
Just remind him that
Nothing is Something
that Something could be Anything
and therefore
you are important.
Smile in his face
and pretend you cannot hear, cannot understand, cannot be hurt
When the arrows take to the air
walk so far away and don't stop until your toes are dangling over the edge of the ocean
and all that lies beneath you is a tunnel of stars
When he finds your Achilles Heel,
tell someone
No use dying in battle
Forgive the grown-ups, for they know not their mistakes
Show them how to handle it
Sleep with the light on
Check your closet
Be prepared
He will come
but if you know your enemy
there's no way you can lose
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 10:01 AM UTC
Melancholy.
A pretty word
with such a sad heart.
Makes you wonder
what made it so.
Melancholy.
The way it's said
so passively,
inattentively,
ignorantly,
makes me want to
scream.
Melancholy.
The word is reverent
and should be treated so.
A beautiful expression
to be used with care,
if you please.
Melancholy.
It's not sickly sweet
like some of the others,
yet not too sour either.
A little bit salty,
like tears.
But really,
who hasn't tasted their own?
Melancholy.
The word flows like a river
of tears down a cheek.
One filled with regret,
sorrow, loneliness.
Melancholy.
The more I say it
the more I like it.
The way it drifts,
and takes my thoughts with it.
Not to a happy place,
but a place of quiet,
sad thoughts.
Melancholy.
Even the word itself
draws me to it.
I think it is,
in part,
because I relate.
Sometimes,
it seems,
we are all
melancholy.
And I am but one
in a million
who feels it too.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
Social relations.
Fading, dissipating.
Regenerated and rebuilding.
Everything held deep spills out over past memories and future broken promises.
Talking of brighter days with different time lines.
Watching, talking, passively dissecting minds of those like mine.
All investigating our inner workings and imagined surroundings.
It's in the waking hours of the dawn. It's when time is irrelevant.
When the new day brings nothing but revelations and unfiltered ramblings.
Anything to fill this void.
The morning air feels stale compared to renewed awakenings.
Constantly picking at the scab.
Digging for one last laugh.
A final smile.
The perfect ending for the night we might forget.
We forge new mental pathways and plan play dates.
Evolutionary socialization.
Cigarettes serve as reality checks and mirrored reflections.
Open eyes burning for something tangible.
Awake and unaware.
Filtering through the nonsense and intellectual genius.
Trying to read the dusted lessons buried between advice and elaborate fairy tales.
We speak of ideas.
We speak of all the things that rest on the ledge of our understanding.
We dream of what it is and what it could be.
All seeking growth.
All staying just within the caution tape.
Ponderous wondering of connections and false enlightenment.
I remain skeptical even though I've felt it.
My mind has always held an untrusting grudge against my intuition.
In the end it's just another day.
Contributions minimal.
Lessons learned... Still settling their sediments.
They're Remnants.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
I'm in Love
with a man
whose love
for me
it seems
is wired
to a switch.
And
without warning
something
last night
caused it
once again
to flip.
It used to
lead me
to question,
if he gives
a **** at all-
But now
I just
passively wonder
how I go
about getting
one installed.
For solitude
is less
intimidating,
than insecurity
and fear.
And laying
awake alone
is better
than company
that's
adjacent
but ultimately
insincere.
Even though
I should leave
I will place
my troubled
questions
in boxes
to forget
about tonight.
Endure the
deep breaths
and eye rolls
and stay
if only out
of sheer
stubbornness,
exhaustion,
or maybe
out of
spite.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC