I never stopped writing. I haven’t liked anything I’ve written in the past year, but I kept trying. I have thousands of stray thoughts scattered throughout my harddrive, scribbled onto the blank spaces between the ink of old accounting files that somehow missed their trip to the shredder. I kept trying, and I keep on … Continue reading “I’m a notorious procrastinator, but even if it takes me till the end on my days, I swear I’ll find a reason to love myself.”
I’m spending my days folding up clouds and lining my pockets with dandelion flowers. Cradled in the allure of these soft, sweet distractions, it takes a moment for my mind to register that I’m shivering underneath a waterlogged sweatshirt. I think I want to walk away, to find some cover from the rain, but the … Continue reading Drawing from the well of experience I’ve gathered over the past 25 years of existence, I can draw one solid conclusion about my life: I’m a coward.
I’ve spent the past 6 years trying to erase everything. If our lives are homes that grow with time, than what I have been doing is leaving the front door unlocked, every window open, and I couldn’t even wait for the world to rip out anything of value, so I actively participated in the pillaging, … Continue reading I don’t know where I’m coming from, and I don’t care where I’m heading. I wish I had the strength to just…stop.
Coiled around every kiss is the taste of a temporary love. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but we’ve all forced ourselves to stomach worse things than this, in the name of desire. Nobody enjoys a burning esophagus, nor the rancid taste of stomach acid that accompanies every exhale. A goodnight kiss has been replaced … Continue reading “A night without liquor, mistakes made in poor lighting, and the numbing taste of a strangers lips would do me a world of good. If only I knew how to accept anything good..”
Someday you’ll come to understand how I feel. You’ll wake up, and before you even get the chance to roll out of bed, an intense self-loathing will be simmering right beneath your skin. You won’t be able to make sense of it, and with every passing second the pressure of being alive will grind your … Continue reading “Raking away at already red wrists, as if self inflicted scars are the latest fashion trend, I’m racing towards another round of awkward conversations about an imaginary cat, a pair of clumsy feet, and a person who stopped caring a long time ago.”
Now I remember your face The name you remind me of, so fake This bitter pill, just a bit overkill But theater has its place’s We have come to a fork in the middle of this road Damnit, who put this here? Blocking my way, making it harder to say What I need to Well … Continue reading Days turned to weeks, and now it’s been months; exactly 96 days I’ve been sober. But that’s left my mind with nothing but time to wonder about you and me…so I’m sober, but I’m suffocating, trying to accept a me without you…
Speak to me, on bended knee! "O sweet dreams, my dreary queen!" Sail away on those ships of yours Past the end, over the floors Of a raging Ocean, with waves as tall As my clouds, the love that won’t fall… ~My words on paper mean nothing at all, for in a moment of rage … Continue reading Years may pass, but the Sun hasn’t changed; It’s the same every May, and so is the pain.
I want serendipity to smell As my anguish ignites, Its carnivorous flames Feasting on my doubt. The breeze is perfumed With a sinister smog, And even though it hurts, This smoke is the only air; And so I am left choking On the ugly scent Of a burning heart..
I want destiny to taste The last sliver of air Netted in my lungs. It’s Nitrogen imbued With a wink of vinegar, And a gasp of sour carbon, Made all the more potent By a throat varnished In wood turpentine.
I just want to read books for a weekend, without worrying about work or the world. I want to take away my sense of responsibility, for myself and every other self within a 10,000 mile radius. I want to spend hours browsing at bookstores, moving my fingers along exposed spines. Between all the paper and … Continue reading I’ve made more friends with ideas set in ink than warm bodies, and that’s perfectly fine with me.