Becoming so ever increasingly tired of this little dance we do. You tug to your side, I try to keep my feet solid on the ground. Closing your eyes, you swing me around…you watch the crowd. Our dance was never enough for you. You needed the cheer of the crowds from your past. Your legs somewhere in 2005…I pull your arms eight years later. You carry the unnecessary guilt of the crosses you like to showoff. Incredibly stubborn bricks piled on bricks that carry nicks from the come downs of previous failed hopes. You exhaust my kindness, make me want a refund on my sympathy.
Do as you please. We all pave roads with our feet.
i feared impermanence,
so i embraced my impermanent state.
It isn’t solely about yourself.
barely a niche.
scar upon your breast.
smooth hairless tissue
barely holding fast
to the curved bow.
your weight held
left to my own devices, i can get quite nostalgic at times.
i have hours of free time and all i can do is read old notebooks, look at old pictures and look up music i used to love fifteen years ago.
it scoops. swoooooooo
bringing the shovel
up to your face
scratched up from
the bottom of your
stomach feels ill.
yet you dig again.
gotta get it all out this time.
gaping mouths of
feeling the hungry
that is your gut;
it craves an
but you should never ask questions
you don’t really want answered.
de las mejores cosas que puedes aprender (y a lo cual te debes someter): completamente comprender que andamos solos y solas en esto, de aquí hasta la muerte. no hay cosa que más me endurezca y me despierte que esa realidad.
se me está acumulando algo.
capas sobre capas de resina
mi cuerpo nunca ha estado aquí;
jamás presente. respirando
sólo pozitos de aire.
se me olvida quién soy.
baile de un ser
poco dudoso y
Telling the person you thought was the love of your life you guys had a good run and are thankful for the time you got to spend together, but it’s clearly done now.
You lock your knees to avoid from falling, you grit your teeth to create a barrier from the sobs that are slowly coming up from your throat, you just get it over with because you know you can be happier.
P.S.: Sabías que el próximo en tenerme no iba a comerse la mierda.
he needs to be a dad though, too…and I need to be a twenty five year old.
A ver cuántas veces me pueden apuñalar el corazón sin desangrarme.
Hay como unas cositas enterradas en mi piel. Me esconderé y las sacaré.
getting back on the SSRI’s feels like driving into a beach scene. you hear “if you like piña coladas” and see pink pills tanning out on the sand, waving to you…
Welcome Back! We’ve been expecting you. Here, take this buzz and get on with your day.
not to be cruel…
but when the bullies that made shitty high school even shittier start to die off as we call get older, I can’t help but think I made much better decisions with my life than they did.
I gave you lots, but I took a lot, too.