"reassure" poems
Some day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey
trailing snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.
Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder
if your skin shows traces
of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.
Do not be surprised by prickly questions
from those who barely inhabit
their own fleeting lives, who barely taste
their own possibility, who barely dream.
If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws,
if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl,
you will reassure them. We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else,
no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,
just this frantic waiting to die.
And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language
to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies
and granite and bone. They tremble,
hoping your lips hold a secret,
that the song your body now sings
will redeem them, yet they fear
your secret is dangerous, shattering,
and once it flies from your astonished
mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate
before unfolding tremulous wings.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
As much as you try to reassure
my mind keeps reeling
With thoughts, sometimes obscure
*One can not always help
feeling insecure*
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC
Day in, day out on the mind
All comes down to competition
Result of years of preparation.
In those seconds of restlessness
When the body can take no more
Dream of a medal reassure.
Will to succeed is eminent
Breathes through each atom and cell
To have what only a champion can smell.
In the spirit of sportsmanship
Fair play is to be endeavored
The performance to be savored.
Now is everything you pursued
Aspiring in the end
To proudly sing the national anthem.
A steep climb to that podium
Be the best that you can be
And have what only a winner can see.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
How I love to sit
beneath you
and let your
gentle, slender branches
surround and protect me.
Like a loving touch,
your beautiful green boughs
reach out to reassure me,
I am not alone.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
“You are not an artist.
You are not an artist.”
What photos must I shoot
How many cigarettes must I smoke
It is scary, but - I want to embody the things which destroy minds
Summer vibes feel like radiation
Use this alcohol to eradicate
The proposition - that I will be ‘okay’
My phone is on airplane mode
My ambition is floating - as a feather might -
Down to the depths
I cannot finish my own sentences
Bury my expectation with my religion
And it’s funny
Because I have resolved my mind to avoid romantic
confrontation
But, alas - I do day-dream
Of a girl’s face & hair - for it has appeared in my dreams four
times
And I awake to Deja-Vu as her face appears in conscious
frames
So…
I can imagine & I can see, but - they have become one in the same
Could not fantasize asking
Your hand in mine
Oh how I wish to cry
To sob in any light so long as you are in sight
Someone to reassure me, that - yes
“There is an end to the night.”
But I cannot. I suppress it in drives. In music videos. In writing. In self-speaking when I have only me to keep company.
Kick me off the team.
I do not know what I need.
If I could lead, as I once did.
But I have left concern in the refrigerator
With empty bottles & cans
Maybe I will return tomorrow to salvage the cents of my malleable integrity
Won’t you reliquinish me of it ?
For I have sipped the poison of honesty
Regretfully it tastes like honey
Lustful - Fleeting - Sugary - Intoxicating
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
She strolled down a winding pathway, admiring the brightly colored roses, listening to the loud chirping of the birds
As she walked,she hummed a tune of joy and followed the path marking on a map, just to reassure herself that she was heading in the right direction
Around a turn o the left she went, then back to the right, as her pace sped with every step
But then the beautiful path that she'd been following for so long fell into a babbling creek, only to continue on the other side
Had she, excited for her long journey, mistaked this path with the one she wished to take?
"No," she decided, for she checked the path a million times before beginning, and she was positive she had journeyed on the correct one
Should she give up on her journey, only to turn around and go home?
"No," she told herself, for how could she live with herself of she gave up on her dream?
But how will she, small and dainty, cross the sputtering creek that lays before her?
She gazed at the creek in front of her, considering walking alongside it until she reached a spot where she could walk across
"No," she determined, for there was no way of knowing whether there'd be a break in the flood of water, and even if there was, she'd be lost in the forest, continuously searching for the path
She glanced from left to right, searching for something to aid her in crossing the creek
To the left of the path, she noticed flat stones, the exact size of her foot
"Yes!' she exclaimed, as she sets them in the creek and skipped across them
She was back on her way, strolling down the pathway, headed towards her dreams.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
It's very late in the evening
sun is going down
night is young
Among the crowd
I see you
watching the southern eclipse
Pour out your heart to me
Secure all that you need
reassure for today
Temperature is hot
Southern eclipse
I open my mind
to see what I find
Among the crowd
I see you
It's you who I want
I've roamed the world
looking for you
You have cleared my mind
I pour out my love
for you, for you
Ashore I'm waiting for you
southern eclipse
southern eclipse
I can face another day
because of you
your embrace is warm
No one can take your place
Southern eclipse,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
XXIV
Let the world’s sharpness, like a clasping knife,
Shut in upon itself and do no harm
In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,
And let us hear no sound of human strife
After the click of the shutting. Life to life—
I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,
And feel as safe as guarded by a charm
Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife
Are weak to injure. Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,
Growing straight, out of man’s reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
7.2k
We all bear scars in one way or other.
Some from loving someone too deeply and some others from losing someone or something that you cared too much for.
Some scars are intentional while some others exist for stupid silly reasons.
Some we are but some we are not so proud of.
I have scars all over my body.
All over my mind and all over my soul.
I have scars on my brain due to over thinking and over analyzing incidents that haven’t even happened yet.
I have scars on my eyes for shutting it more often, for being blind to things that should’ve been taken care of.
I have scars on my nose from all those endless snobs and sniffles from my horrifying past relationships.
I have scars on my mouth from speaking the truth, only the truth and nothing but the truth.
I have scars on my neck from getting choked up on false love and fake proposals.
I have scars on my shoulders from lifting up responsibilities that I was accustomed to from an early age.
I have scars on my hands from holding onto things that weren’t supposed to be mine from the very start.
I have scars on my chest from my ice cold heart that has been stomped over and over multiple times.
I have scars on my lungs from the “occasional” stress buster cigarettes that I am addicted to every now and then.
I have scars on my stomach from one too many butterflies that flew when we first met.
I have scars on my legs from running, miles away from people and that place I used to call home.
I have scars on my skin from the many tattoos I got done that helps me reassure my self-worth.
I have scars on my soul from trying hard to pull myself together, calm me down and compose myself through the rampant storm that’s been raging in my life.
I have all these scars. All of them.
And they don’t scare me now even though they hurt like hell, at times.
They’ve become a part of me and looking back, they are just reminders of who I was, what I have been through my life and the person it has made me become.
They don’t scare me anymore because they define who I am now.
A survivor.
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
The perfectionist loves to hear his voice,
He is the respected critic inside,
He is the learned one,
The educated and the educator.
A beautiful constructor,
The finishing touch
To the artist's hand.
The voice is always a partner,
He will always be there to help
The artist, comfort is taken in his ability.
The artist needn't forget,
There are many voices on the side,
Awaiting for their time to speak,
Each one has its time,
All varying in their patience and duration.
The artist sees what he hasn't before:
The voice of support; the voice of love; the voice of decision; and the voice of passion.
There is always time to contemplate his flaws
And he wants to reassure himself:
Perfection is not a demand, but a quest,
One of beauty and one of joy.
Perfection is the beauty in imperfection.
The pursuit of achievement is one to relish, it is not to be rushed or
Ceased, it is a running walk, a walking run, a sitting stand, a moving still.
It is every step he has made.
The artist looks behind and sees
His effort, he is proud to have experienced
His triumphs and his trauma
The voice of comfort will be there all the way,
She is a gentle quieter spirit that deserves as much an ear.
When all voices have calmed and subsided,
Her tenderness remains.
I remind the artist of his friends,
I remind him that the critical voice is the voice of nature,
The physical laws unchanged.
He is the driving force to stasis and movement in the age worry and indecision.
"Do not be overwhelmed" I say to the artist,
You are one of many.
You are with friends.
The voice of change encourages the artist to evolve and to smile,
The voice of happiness allows peaceful living and awareness.
The tiger belongs to nature,
not to be feared, but to be respected
and understood.
Do not despair, do not relinquish hope,
Hope is the shining beacon in a world of anguish.
Hope is the angel shining her torch ever so bright.
Hope is the window that allows pain and suffering to see the light of day ,
Hope allows oneness.
The artist moves his brush: an effortless stroke,
A flicker of joy,
A tear in his eye.
He once was old,
Now is young.
He learns to enjoy
The work he has done,
He can now enjoy the work he does,
He is enjoying the work he is doing.
He enjoys his life.
The state of mind, it is a fickle hatchling.
Able to be pursued and persuaded,
also able to be liberated.
The artist is free,
His thoughts can pass,
His fear will subside,
His body can move,
His heart will follow
And the mind will allow.
Spirit be set free,
Bird do fly,
Artist do paint,
You,
You are.
Peace within oneself is peace with others.
The artist is brave, he is a soul that stands tall in the face of adversity,
He is a sleepless enigma in his room at night,
He is the passionate one,
The artist and his love affair with the critic outshines his charisma,
The love for the sophisticated darkness,
His love for the melodrama,
His quest for knowledge,
Perhaps the only knowledge is
Ignorance.
Blissful unawareness.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
For a while we've been friends.
As time gradually went by,
We have grown closer to each other,
Yet I still have my doubts.
For I still fear you don't trust me,
Or possibly secretly don't like me.
You always reassure me
And always cause me to smile.
As time goes by,
I feel that what I do isn't enough.
I feel that as we continue on;
I tend to fail at what I do.
I still feel I have much to prove
And I must give my all.
In order to prove my loyalty,
I have to prove myself everyday.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
I feel the humid emotion in our room
This room where feelings are felt and magic happens between you and I
You, sitting on the edge of our bed..motionless as the air itself..
Your pale colored eyes looking hungrily all over me..craving desire..
I know you want me..
Your layered jet black hair falling over your face in a roughed up lust..
I , sitting across from you on the ground
These old cherry glazed wooden floors that are so familiar to us
Sitting half undressed, motionless
My hair in a mess, like one of those models posing in a vogue magazine
Desperately waiting for something to spark between this still nature
My eyes
looking you up..
and down …
I want you…
I crave your touch
That euphoric rush you give me when your skin meets mine..
I want to feel your warmth up against my body
A feeling I longed to feel for so long
Sometimes I wondered if love really exists?
Sitting alone, envisioning, and always thinking of you
Is love just a movie?
It starts, and sadly ends
When I see you here in front of me, I deeply reflect.
I think no, never.
You are the definition of love
You are my beautiful distraction
The way your eyes lock on mine, they paralyze me, our gaze is cemented
I wonder if you feel the same about me
The emotions rush through my body as I passionately look at your perfection
I the butterfly, and you the lion, such strong complexities to obtain.
I leisurely rise and walk towards you following your desirable gaze
I get close to your body and touch your gentle face, you let me get into your lap.
You make me fear, you
I touch you to reassure this is real
The love I have wanted for so long.
I kiss your soft skin, and bite your lips gently.
Your warm body up against mine makes me melt in your arms.
We share deep and passionate kisses that I wish would last forever.
But forever is too long and I would be a corpse decaying in your arms.
This memory will always linger
I only want more from you.
Take me somewhere we both know we want to go
I whisper words into your ear softly
Words that haven’t been spoken as long as I could remember.
I shudder with life every time your touch embraces my soft skin.
I close my eyes and the world spins into a maelstrom of pure bliss
a beautiful desire.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC
I once was on an endless journey
Of turning left and right,
There was bramble all around me, only
Nothing not alike.
Though none were up above me
I could not see the sky,
All except my inner strength,
I had been left alone to die.
Deserted by the moon and stars,
I was even without light,
But desperate to be free again,
I braved the endless night.
Time escaped me, also
I traveled a day, a week, a year,
But my body never weakened,
Nor hunger did I fear.
Even if I neared the end
I had no way to be sure,
So, I promised myself it was close ahead,
Just one more set of turns.
But the exit never greeted me
And disappointment, it grew strong
I had broken so many promises,
My credibility was gone.
I could no longer reassure my mind,
So I faced the truth instead,
I prepared myself for eternity –
And an endless path ahead.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
Housing thoughts that so often incite
a sick sort of darkness, that may cause one to shy away
so all these thoughts are for you that I write
so you can walk amongst my dreams and view the decay
feeling the need for you to see every corner of my mind
and were you to decide to turn and run far from me
you can before it is too late, lest to my darkness be confined
this allows the ability to avoid all this that is my insanity riddled with debris
There is of course a light within my darkness as well
for every Yin there is a Yang or so I hear
therefore on darkness I will not always dwell
hopefully this can alleviate any fear
and reassure that there also lies hope and love within my soul
a lot of which by you is often times inspired
basking in so much light, releasing me from despair's control
it is these things about you I have always admired
So please, take a stroll down the many paths my mind holds
I will hope they are not too overwhelming as they begin to unfold
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
⊙
*Luke 12:49
“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”*
This wasteland, desolate vegetable garden
No crops will grow, no sun will shine
No cool breeze to clean the air
of the smell of decomposition
Just dead things, the decay of man and dreams of hope
Which my black boots stomp on
I walk the ruin in silence
I walk past a monster sleeping by a tree
Turning, frowning
The monster is me
Its eyes are as red as judgement day
As red as the faces of the condemed
Those who stare at the 144 000, wondering if they are worthy
As red as the blood ********** in this ancient garden
This is a battleground
Oozing with pain, pleasure, splendor and misery
Even if Pythia already circled the loser's name in bright red
Allowing the victors to trample holy ground underfoot
Before they disappeared
But me
I stood here
Feeling all feeling being drained out
I walked past a monster weeping by a tree
“Everything good must come to an end,”
Mystery says
Pursing her lips
“And so must everything wicked
But the memories
Those which encircle their victim
And slowly tighten like great snakes
Suffocating their prey
Those last forever
And if those memories last forever
Then how can one remain pure in heaven
Without thinking about sin
Temptation must surely creep in
Poisoning the mind until it is consumed with the idea
Who is pure anyway?”
I know she is lying
(Turning)
But her words are surreal, slurred, seductive
(Frowning)
I look inside my heart to reassure myself
(Turning)
There is hope
(Frowning)
But there’s nothing there
(And the monster is me)
In the vegetable garden
A ruin
A wasteland
I stand
Not really existing
⊥
⊣⊙⊢
⊤
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
2 steps forward
4 steps back
All fun and games
Till someone gets hurt
Shall we play a game,
With no return?
Go places we've never been
Who gives a **** if we don't make it?
That's why we do it
Test the limits
Risk it all
Just to see who would care
Just to reassure ourselves
That if we're gone
They would send a prayer
Let's go there
Leave at the crack of dawn
Gone
That's what we'll be
Forever
Gone
Wild
Free
Together
You and I
I hate you most
Always together
That's what we are
They say it's an allusion
All in your head
They drive you crazy
Until your dead
That's were I'm headed
And your coming with me
Because if I'm the car
Then you're the key
So lets go to a new nowhere
Start over until that **** gets to old
And we'll keep going
Just you and me
My Demon
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
Teasing the beast
Looking for a feast
Hounds barking at our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Compartmentalizing symptom after symptom
To hide the great systematic sickness
Labeling the suffering, outcome from desire
We, wholeheartedly accepting being
Appropriated, labeled, discarded
As construing our own oppression and sadness
Enduring the **** of our minds
Being castrated of our consciousness
Before we reap the products
Of its bold liberation and grandness
Its the belly of the beast
And its hungry
Insatiable, amoral entrails
Hoping to salvage a feast
From the casualties of d(e)moc(ratic) wars
Hoping we feed our monstrous fear
Thirsting for the greed
Dripping off of accumulating wealths
Impatiently waiting, we keep parceling out grudges
Disfiguring our minds, our souls, and our bodies
Its misanthropic nature lashes out without conscience
Knowing we'll never realize we are masses
Disappearing the individuals who realize their suffering
Ensuring there's no collective opposition or action
Trying to reassure we are weak
Knowing at some point or another
We all act mute, deaf, and blind when anyone experiences:
Oppression
Pain
Silencing
****
Hunger
Fear
Violence
Repression
Retaliation
Discrimination
Torture
Negation
Alienation
All forms of mental, psychological, physical, and spiritual mutilation
Fearing death more than fighting for necessary abolishment
Preferring to live out our veiled miseries
Endorsing their continuance
Instead of risking our lives for everyone's liberation
Always ensuring the feast of the beast
By its very efforts trying to decree our very human nature
Ingraining greed, fear, animosity, and weakness as if inherent of us
All parts of its most damaging weapon: the seed of discord
Its implantation, a socialized deep desire for self-preservation
Sheep bleating painfully toward our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Signifying the impending recapturing
Of our true transformative desires
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
did it work?
I give a useless tug on my skin, done to reassure me
instead it reaffirms to me:
I am, again, inconsolable.
is the mask I wear today sealed on tight? too tight?
does it hurt to pretend so much?
does it seem clear to anyone else that there are loose ends I've yet to tend to? backdoors I've overlooked?
transparencies? can they see through me?
I bare my teeth. canines, canines from the days of carnivores.
am I that carnivore? in my genes I am.
and in practice?
inconsolable, uncontrollable
barely a threat in her form.
this question comes to me under many guises:
an old man asking me: are you that of practice or are you that of genes?
a professor lecturing: are you that of cultivated identity or that of inherited form?
my concerned friends crying:
who are you?
is your mask anything like you?
and then i wake.
it's a terror turned nightly chorus.
recurring nightmares, doctors offer.
i admit i know the content of my dreams to be unfounded:
in life there are no physical masks that do the jobs my terrors depict.
no veil to hide the contours of each flawed personality, no mask to others, just me, weeping-in-the-bathroom, never-myself me
and those attempted favours to be like one another
i'll be like you so you'll like me
i'll like you because i'm like you
so the body charges on in this society like a mirror
cross your left leg when she crosses her right, fold your arms when she's folded hers, raise your hand to say hello, raise your hand to say goodbye
a kiss on the right cheek, a kiss on the left, one more on the left
this is how you show love and a greeting all at once
fold your arms over each other, this is sympathy, this is greeting, do you take comfort in this too?
so you learn to speak with your arms, and you learn to speak with your legs, and you learn to speak with your face, and you learn to speak with your head.
soon your eyes are apprentices of acquaintances, learning to borrow looks like library books, take on others' stories like they've read them end to end.
so in the middle of this process you learn to effectively say:
i see you, i hear you, i perceive you.
and in these attempted favours, at the end of your night terrors, is the parrot that they want to see. the parrot that you argue, can't really be me.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
probably because i keep putting you first,
before everything else that i ever thought of before -
these feelings of missing people before i love them too much
haunt me everyday
you don't understand,
you still go home to the same people you laid next to on a changing table, have beers with people who learned to suckle on their thumbs
around the same time as you
the people i go home to
i shook their hands as we both signed our 1-year lease
and soon i'll shake their hands goodbye and good riddance
i hold these ******* fears and horrifies and terrifies and tears
in my chest, i can't afford to keep loving people and letting them go
into the world without me at their side -
i hate loving people and cutting these red strings that connect us,
i love so deeply and i just want to see you succeed and give you
flowers and kisses, and hold you in my arms when you feel the world
crumbling down around you -
i promise i can love, my love is a wicked one
i just cant keep loving and breaking, loving and breaking
when can i love and love and love and love
without end
with you
you terrify me
you're here and then you're gone
and you try to reassure me that you're always always here
but i can't trust it when you only come and peek
into my life for 5 seconds at a time and then you're gone
living your own,
i'm so scared you'll love someone else and leave because i am
so in love with you and loving and breaking with you
will **** me
it'll **** me
let me **** my heart first before you try to do it yourself
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
My love, my lover, my life.
Tall, beared, hued and mysterious.
I realized he was mysterious since he only lives in the frontal lobe of my mind.
There I anxiously wait for his kiss.
Is it crazy to think that a bond so strong will ever exist?
I sure hope he does!
I am frantically in love with him.
This man unknown who has not found me as of yet.
I have seen glimpses of him, here and there.
With long observation that never compare!
I wait, again.
Full of emotions.
With tears, fears and deep long sighs.
I reassure myself that my love, so simple, and true, is near.
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 3:45 PM UTC
Why don't I just throw it all in your face
And see if I can escape this ******* place
Use a diversion to escape
Drive away listen to that old cassette tape
Can't I get away for a little while
The site of you is getting quite vial
A get away sounds like a good thing
A vacation is the best thing
Before I set up this battle and war
I need to know and reassure you of the score
You lead by exactly one
So its in your best interest to turn and run
I will kick your ******* skull in
I can guarantee the win
I don't where to start or where to end
Cause even know I don't know what is around the bend
Can't I get away for a little while
The site of you is getting quite vial
A get away sounds like a good thing
A vacation is the best thing
I recall a time once ago
Where you were an angel not a ***
Back then we were together
With hopes of it being forever
Ha, when I think of that now
I can see why it came crumbling down
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Can't I get away for awhile
The site of you is getting quite vial
A get away seems like a good thing
A vacation is the best thing
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
It happens imperceptibly
but you know it
when it’s in full effect –
Two’s company
three’s crowd.
It’s not
anyone’s fault,
not something
anyone decides,
just how it goes
sometimes.
Conversation
becomes
more and more
personal,
until it is clear:
You are not supposed to be here.
So you do
what you are good at doing.
You disappear.
-
See, disappearing?
You have it down
to a science.
Talk less and less
and then not at all.
Stare off into space,
perhaps fidget from time to time,
make small movements
to show that you
have not quite
turned to stone.
Take a while to leave.
It can’t be sudden -
you wouldn’t want to draw attention
to yourself.
[It’s awkward for everyone involved.]
Finally,
when you think you just
can’t
bear it,
get up to go to the bathroom
and never come back.
It’s easier than you think.
-
They will look for and address you
eventually:
*oh good night, are you okay, you’re so quiet,
you should have said something, I’m sorry, sorry,
sorry.*
The usual.
You will reassure them
when the time comes,
fold up your feelings
into a little origami crane
that you wish could just
fly away.
But for now
you can sit safely
in your invisibility.
-
You told your friend group earlier
that sometimes you thought
there was no point calling yourself
gay
because you just hated everyone.
It makes everyone laugh,
and even you find that you’re amused,
but
you don’t know if they heard
the hurt, the bitterness, the honesty of that statement
buried within your voice.
-
You watch
the way your two friends (with benefits)
are affectionate with each other,
the way one puts her head
in the other’s lap,
the way they play with each other’s hair
small kisses on small places,
the way they do these things
and see only each other,
as if all of this
is only obvious
to them.
It’s sweet.
You try to rouse yourself into
more feeling:
jealousy,
sadness,
hopefulness,
anything intense, but
everything boils down to
the same nothingness.
This is simply
another thing you
can’t/won’t/don’t have
[pick any verb, they’re all true].
-
And this is what
your life is:
trying to find ways
to make everything disappear.
Feelings – gone.
Desires – gone.
Expectations – gone.
Hopes – gone.
Communication – gone.
-
And this is what your life is:
Succeeding.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC