samie
we can only be this--pulled back and forth, forward and backward, side to side in an never ending circle of each other. you and me, falling into the abyss, into love.
dance with me, push and pull and force me into spinning ever after. chase, and let go
we'll love forever in this orbit--live forever until we crash into each other.
you are my beloved, but sometimes I wonder.
how can I stand to keep holding on? I question myself, not you -- but my own essence. will I break another heart today? no, not today. I love you, you see?
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Don't let me hurt you -- for I am more than capable of hurting you. Don't let me hurt you, not another heart to walk over; understand this and us, for I love you.
it was like a montage of dreams had run right before me, the film reel slowly running out -- running, running, running out.
I could see the headlights in the darkness, up ahead, haunting me. I could see them chasing me down, running me over -- this isn't the time to be afraid to die, but I'm terrified.
I'm scared that these dreams will come true, the sickening crunch I hear my body making will one day ring true and all I've got is a plan of nothing for the future.
she stood in line, another line, keeping in line. handing over penny-coins to pay for the canteen lunch, it was just another lunch, another day, another penny-coin to give away.
she could give them to the man on the street, after she walked out of there. he probably needed the penny-coins more than she did. but she slipped the penny-coin to the lunch lady, like in elementary school, and took another lunch, on another day.
I thought you could steal me away forever, I thought you could do it. You were the one, the chosen one of this life and the next, all of them.
Why couldn't you? What are you, a failed criminal in the making -- hold me back you thief. You took it. And then you returned it, broken in pieces behind you. Let me go. Let me out of this life. Broken. Stop breaking the things you steal.
teach me to be everything you want me to be. you have already become everything that you can be and yet you continue to move beyond it. you move beyond every border as though it is nothing to you, as though everything is already done and complete.
let's just be domestic together. you're adorable when you're domestic. i'm pretty sure i fell in love with you making the bed the morning after i first stayed over, making me breakfast, slicing up pink delicious apples.
It's a wasteland, we're standing at the end of the arid plain, and all that's left is a flash of lightning, a burning tower and the gust of wind bringing rain -- T.S. Eliot, you have inspired me beyond any other author.
You bring life to words that previously had no meaning, change text from old, unreachable and cold reads and fragment them into something that demands of a reader to be a part of your poetry. BE a part of the world which we had turned into The Waste Land.
You'd think that at the birth of humanity, there would be something a little more special than a tree.
You'd see a world coming to its end, but also its beginning -- a whole era of times where we left the universe in the hands of something fallible.
For we are fallible, fallible as the next person beside us. Our capacity to love gives us great measure to do great things, but also to do terrible things. Our capacity to feel makes us something beyond what we should have been, at the very core of our births.
I hate wearing eyeliner -- it feels as though everything makeup is is just another thing to hide myself with.
The world has an expectation of who I am, who I present myself to be.
Nobody is ever who someone else expects them to be.
Give it up world, our vanity isn't worth the cost it is to everyone around us, regardless of their expectations. What a vicious cycle of apathy. I hope it fades.
There was a minute where I thought I could hold on -- I wouldn't die, and I wouldn't watch them die.
And then I knew, because my consciousness wasn't actually where I thought I was, but rather subtracted from where I actually was.
I was away, in a world where nothing was what I thought it was. And then I was told that this was all a top secret project, covered up and hidden under the cover of a blackout blank.
It's just another field of three leaf clovers.
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writing since 1969 · 127 entries · 123 days shown up
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loveanotherheartnowremembertonightholdrunhappyforeveranymorewishwaitingbestsometimestape