It sure feels odd for a numbness I cannot grasp meaning of.
Tag: poetry
Consistency
Put forth the consistency and effort for the sake of opulence.
subconscious
Don’t allow yourself to get too sidetracked within your own thoughts. Or else the subconscious mind will present itself in an unexpected form.
first world
To be born in a first-world country is a privilege in itself.
fate
Going under the pretense determinism is true, every individual in this life has already met given there isn’t a past, present or future.
good times
In hindsight, we never really notice we’re presently living in “the good old days” until it becomes the good old days.
bones
The aches in my bones continue to grow louder with every tick of the clock. What once was a silence is now a daily reminder of a permanence that can never be attained. Somehow there’s beauty in that. If you so decide to look deeper.
Mascara
She found that her mascara had now been worn down on her rosy cheeks. It’s true that she’d still been in love with the past. The glimmer of what was still anchors her from moving towards a future that is brighter.
Its just a skull
Limited to the spaces we can roam, trapped by innate flesh and a mind that can betray. Horrific
dinner (dream)
It’s night.
The table, wrapped in cloth. The coldness of the beverage sweats off the glass and into knitted fabric. Splotches of water can been seen sporadically on the table.
The clanging and cheers of the nearby people fill the air in celebratory fashion. It seemed to be a joyous night for many.
Across, a woman sits before me. Wearing a striking auburn dress, her collarbones naked and her shoulders exposed. The light from the chandelier above glistens off of them.
She wore an evident smile and her laugh stood out among the crowd. We’d exchanged banter that had encompassed the moon. All while our feet affectionately pecked each other throughout the night.
What a dream.
adulting
We’re all just much older kids.
el dorado
Bliss with a little bit of chaos amidst love. Caressed with sunburnt ignorance under the guise of romance. Left with wounds that fail to close.
Find your warmth
Try and find that warmth amidst the blizzard. Keep it close for as long as you’re able. It’ll make the journey through the storm worthwhile.
your song
Your song, which I can only imagine would sound like an open flowerbed in the dusk of summer. The kind you’d often find yourself frolicking in where the air is clean and the petals stretch multiple miles, far outside the reach of vision.
Your song sounds what a tropical forest smells and some odd way taste like, with all its fruit and rainwater bliss. The kind that is rich and flavorful. Wildlife and all.
Your song, to me, is what I’d often catch myself playing on repeat to the end of all my days; a wonderful tune.
present
Cherish the now. What’s going on today will soon pass; fragments will cement itself as memory and time will persist. As all things usual do.
morbidkafka 