WaffleKiller
pulling me out of the cravass
clawing hand over hand to get out of the shadows from bellow
willpower is what fuels me to dribble myself out of the doldrums
and make something in the sunlight
I can't photosynthesize
make my own life
in darkness
It was not a sunny day today, it rained and thundered and grumbled. Which was a pleasant shift from the horribly humid sticky soup sort of days we've been meddling through, and I enjoyed watching the waves crash and smash into the cliffs like angry slow motion movies.
He took my arm and pulled me into a world of crystals, of ruin and lost things. I didn't know why he took me to this magical and dilapidated place, but i felt like I didn't belong in this whirlwind. It was too starch and unnatural, to romantic to be real.
Forefront of despair, waiting as i approach
Waiting like a wall
across a barren tundra
it curved out of the sky
Like a clipped fingernail
Or the crescent moon
Slipping though the clouds
And piercing the beating
Flesh heart
With a pop
I can't believe I've been chosen by him. Me, of all people, how did I get so incredibly lucky and to deserve his attention? Let alone devotion.
people too often sell their souls to people unwilling to take care of them. They just sell them for too cheap, and be on their way. But I think those are happier than those who never give up their soul for anything, even perfection.
I live on an island. There's sand everywhere. I often try my best to make a cliché sand castle, those things you see in movies. But from what i've learned, those rarely happen, and our lumpy concoction is always far superior.
perhaps I should flee. It seems sometimes that everyone is running away from me. Maybe I should join them. Maybe they're going somewhere spectacular.
everyone is a song writer, going through life stopping on notes and tones and vowels and words that string together to become what is known as life. Sometimes ugly in parts, but sometimes beautiful.
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writing since 2013 · 43 entries · 40 days shown up
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the words Bobbi reaches for
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