sammeyelie2
"Sensitive. Maybe that's all I'm being" say's every goodwife ever. I'm unfortunately too cynical for that shit.
Installing this shelf has been a royal pain in my ass. Not just this afternoon, oh no, it been a few weeks of incorrect measurements back and forth.
Hungry. Hungry for what? For food? No, we are too privileged for that type of hunger. Those of us who can't go hungry, are starving for meaning in this world.
Disco lights flashed around
Giving the entire room the psychedelic translucent glow
That was already reflected in her eyes
Burning, burning, burning, we watch them all fall down. There will be no ashes remaining in this place, the road we left scattered to the wind. She will cary them softly and return us all home.
You visit me
Sometimes
I see you peek through your eyes
Making sure the reality
You've tried to disappear
Is in fact
Still there
I see you
You know,
Deep down
In the heart,
I know is still there
The sound of your breathing, keeping me awake. Even and at peace you move. Slow and gentle your mind speaks to mine. But if we both were to sleep, then there would be no look out for the monsters that always lurk near.
In reference to your prior question: no, I am not saine. My trees are red and, my grass purple. On this psychedelic plane I speak to those within reality. While I am not saine, my mind is quite sound. All one is able to do is to describe their surroundings, outright, or abstract, and just like you with stable brain waves, that is all I seek to accomplish. Now how can you call me a mad man?
Walking down the dirty needle filled streets I see the poster everywhere. I swear any unclaimed space all around Van Nuys there's my naked body and fake eyelashes. Thank God for computers otherwise my breasts would be recognized no matter where I was in this damned city. Its not a cush life doing what we do, but hell it pays rent in this God forsaken place.
My lips chapped and bleeding against the driving wind. Biting and taring at my clothing as I force my self to keep walking against it. No longer going where I was lead, but blazing my own trails.
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writing since 2011 · 28 entries · 27 days shown up
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the words Sam reaches for
nowhearthomeeyessilencewindsavagesforgottenplantlipsmutualmindroomnightsoundfilled