kammynx
There are traces of myself that I can't seem to find. The moments I slip and forget myself completely. I always want to call on you. My other half. But don't I seem so needy?
Lose a leg, we got another 5
Thinking too much depleted the process; Thinking too less overrides the process. So tell me, is this life meant to be painted with our tribulations and constant stirring emotions? This stretched out white wall continues until I decide my mind no longer wanders. Although sometimes, I find it off the canvas, in another world.
There was no credibility in the pages of our books. Turn all you want, but the next page is always different from the last, and more than likely the next.
With all the whiplash attempts, I'm finally forwarding, and there IT is ....that..which is tantamount to felicity and all her energy. All I wanted was to move forward, love wholeheartedly (again), meet positive associates, let go of the swelling in the back of my mind, and defy time.
Coincidentally. Only coincidentally did I find myself in a free position. Of course, I recognized that the sky was blue, the heavy scent of sewage lingering about, the callouses of my palms, the deliberate honks of angry taxi drivers, and the leftover coffee at the tip of my tongue. I also forgot to mention that I felt the presence of some otherworldly. Lucky to have senses? Coincidentally so.
You know, I found myself abroad, limp cigarette, heavy trudge, wet-dog smell because of the rain, and surrounded. And if the light artillery in my left chest wasn't heavy enough, the gun powder smell left me feeling more dead than before. One side blind, other side weak. Julia.
My days stretch from dismantlement to wholeheartedness. I walked down the street in a city so far away, there on the side, a homeless man tended to his day worth of try to make necessities; He bent copper into hearts, creatures made of swirls, men with sharp edges, and whatever else his potential desired. I found myself swayed. I wonder if others' hearts were like mines: easily bent and shaped. A never ending thrash.
Wasn't that how humans worked? They only seek what will provide for them ....no one will speak to you unless you're providing something; a merit; a feeling; devotion; words; food; shelter; life; etc. My mind felt so old, aged, and restrained....I'm so tired of the inert words...the dying appreciation....the countless let downs.....you all go on living like you understand each other, when in fact, no one does. No one is real anymore.
Nothing needs to be in a schedule. I hate schedules so much that I can't even be poetic about it. I don't like this word.
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writing since 2010 · 22 entries · 21 days shown up
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