Tag Archives: wannabe

What happened with the days?

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The days when the world was new, sky bright and beginnings chasing endings, roadside writing and barefoot jumping where we shouldn’t

They turned auburn and sultry, sweet like smoke and pretty like stitches and open wounds and fire (Then all things died before they grew again (All but people is circular))

(What happened to the days) They didn’t change. But the lines in you face are there to stay and as long as you say you always have now you’re lying the way our hearts teach us from the very first day (about immortality and life)

In the infinite expanse of time, the sun will rise as brightly the day you die as it does now. May your bruises leak sunshine and your heart be sore from memories of move
The Lazarus trees will never teach you how
Days don’t grow old the way bodies do.

Like what

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I hate myself and I love myself and I am my own worst enemy and everything I could ever adore. Half of the time I have no idea what I’m doing, meaning that I write this sentence not having a clue how to end it and maybe that way it will end up great and maybe that way it will just fade into nothing as the lack of plans mixed with my own fear of action makes me too comfortable with being still. It’s itching, my soul, constantly knocking against the inside of my skin and I turn around secretly and tell it ’hush’ because I am in school or at work or at home and I have no space left around me to explode in. The earth is turning beneath me. Spinning. Walls are vibrating with the sound from the TV in the room next to this, the fridge is humming and everything is making noise, creating soundtrack, making itself heard in a world were nobody listens because why on earth should we, except that it makes me feel alive and so I breathe in. Look out or lock myself in or observe and see and live and listen, to all and everything and nothing and I have no idea how I live or what I see and sometimes I’m collected but this very moment I’m shattered all over the world and I have no idea what I’m writing down on this computer in this room in this tiny huge world but it’s okay. That’s okay.

When you have no one else who can say this to you, let me

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You are not strange or normal or different or anything else that is not a description of you but a comparison to something and anyone and anything else. Do not get stuck in yourself believing that you are you and the world is the world, but remember that you are you and someone else is someone else, and the world is just a temporary home for a bunch of people at least as screwed up as you are (because God help me, do we need help). We’re not meant to do this alone so find someone who can pull pieces from the darkness and show you the light of being a part of this terrifying place, even though that means knowing that no one actually is. We’re outstanding, a species consisting of individuals existing within their own heads. Generation after generation, all believing they’re as alone in their thoughts and opinions and feelings as we think we are. Just be. And know that someone else is too.

(find someone in the sea of faces)