A.F. Harper (writer in progrees) @afharperwrites - Tumblr Blog

I lay in the echoing chamber of my mind.

My vision blurs and loses focus on the ugliest popcorn ceiling.

For that horrid choice of interior design and my weighted blanket are the only things I can cling to this existence or let alone find.

Feeling the insomniatic tendencies begin to ruin my day, or the ever- going tinnitus ringing.

With each lingering thought I can feel the slow sweat dripping from my brow or maybe it is a tear.

The shaking of my body and the stiffening of my joints are telling me to give in right here.

But if I close my eyes, will I ever see the blinking cursor of my own thoughts written down again, will it just blink away with my thoughts ending the ringing and this tighting in my chest, this pain that rips nostalgia out like a fucking dulled knife cutting slowly through my ribbed cage, or replace this deep seeded mindset of mistakes and fear.

Or when I close my eyes, will the ringing fade away, will the tears dry, will my joints relax, my thoughts erase and my chest pains release finally tearing through to the rest.

When I close my eyes will I be able to see that Blinking line when they open or when I close my eyes does the ever running and every moving with each thought I write sprint with every word finally catch up to itself leaving me with nothingness.

No words left to write. No thoughts left to ponder.

When I close my eyes does this cerat line blink its final time.

A thing to never say to your therapist.

There are moments in life where you take one step forward and yet it's ten steps back in the opposite direction. Those ten steps turns into a run, that run becomes a down hill sprint, that turns into a jump into a fiery land of go fuck yourself. The simple path in life you know. The road so far less traveled that no one takes it because they know of the cluster fuck that is over there expect for you. You stupid naive fucking idiot. When will you understand that happiness doesn't exist, that literal fucking chemical in your God damn brain isn't there. Why? Because, YOU AREN'T RIGHT IN THE HEAD. You aren't a gift, you were never speical, you were never one of a fucking kind. You are a literally walking corpse. Fucking christ, they were all right about you. All of them. Totally fucking right. Just stop. Okay, just give up and stop. Stop it all. No one cares, and I know you don't care about it either. Because you would try wouldn't you? Maybe the tired feeling is what you bring to the world. You don't sleep because you realize that maybe you like it too much. And if you close your eyes you might never wake up. And that scares you but you are also okay with it. The thoughts that keep you up at night, your own voice in your head the crazy ring. All of it is just telling you to give in. So why keep on trying. Accept that life sucks, that happiness isn't real. Be honest that you are to terrified to die but hate the world you live in and most of all you hate yourself. Just be fucking honest with yourself for fucks sake. And just let things be, and know that I hate you.

I’m crashing.

Is this what it feels like?

Waves crashing around me with each word, suffocating any thought process of what will come in the future.

With each understanding of what possibility will await me, a giant storm rumbles in the distance bringing the oncoming storm of anxiety and failure.

This hurricane could wash me off the shore, taking me the the memories of those within the sand.

I wish to be saved, looking for a lighthouse or a near by tower for safety to breathe, but yet i see none around me.

Sink or swim.

Sinking into the endless abyss where I can be forgotten.

Sinking into the bottom of the ocean of doubt.

Sinking into the darkness to be forgotten.

Drowning myself out of your minds.

Drowning myself out of my own dismay.

Drowning myself out of fear.

I am crashing down into the spotlight, and I don’t know if I want to ever be seen.

The Wandering Explorer.

To the open roads I tend to go.

Where my mind can roam free.

The soundtrack of the road begins to fade.

Searching for the place to call my home.

The highways give me time to think.

With each passing light, sparks an old memory.

If only I could see where I am going.

Hoping to find the you in my passenger seat.

This is where I find myself.

But yet it's a lonely place to be.

I want to show you the world I see.

And experience the road, just you and me.

If not now maybe in the future.

We can go on a drive and see where the road takes us.

To a new adventure we could find.

Or a place to call home, or maybe an open road.

To the east or to the west.

Wherever we go it would be the best.

The open road might call.

With new moments to share in this life.

If not than I will keep going forward.

For the life I saw in the mirror behind.

It looks like home to me in the passenger seat.

But for now I have the open road at my feet.

I will keep on,

I will drive on,

I will fight on.

Till the sunsets behind me, and the night sky hits the broken road.

I will sing, and dance under the twilight thinking.

Of what could be forever dreaming.

The road might come to an end, but a new adventure will break ahead.

Let the soundtrack of life play me forward, forever and always going out, the wandering explorer.

Nicotine in the Night

My hands shake and tremble for addiction.

I pull out a small flame and ignite the past with just one drag.

But yet it is not the same.

A smell of comfort but not next to me.

These cigarettes don't taste as sweet unless you are next to me.

With each smoke it takes me back to you.

I look to my side to see you no where in sight.

I smoke each cigarette to just remember.

To enter the past and see your smile, and the smoke rise through your features.

I miss the way nicotine used to taste.

For fractions of the memories bring it back.

But it's never the same unless you are by my side.

I miss the way you made everything bitter be so sweet.

My nicotine in the night.

Just to be with you for a moment.

My addiction to life, my addiction to moments spent together.

Will you be my nicotine at night to make things sweet again.

Take a drag with me through all the good and bad.

My sweet nicotine in the night.

Screaming for myself.

I hear it, creeping through my mind, wanting to escape out.

Going through the darkness of my mind, creeping around each memory.

The screams of my emotional turmoil wanting to be worn as ink to a page.

But yet my book is blank and unwritten, yearning to have the author to write the word.

"Monster."

That is what lurks behind the curtain, the thing only I can see.

The scars of the damned that I have created.

The fires and ashes of those I've left behind.

I've burned and slashed my skin with memories of pain, and suffering.

With each mistake another bullet in the chamber of repression.

I can hear it coming, the scream that has been festering within me for far to long, waiting to shout to the world.

I am a monster.

I am a beast of burden just waiting to be put down.

Lost at sea.

My face goes numb at the thought of failure.

My hands shake and tremble, having the idea that they were right.

I thought I could prove them wrong but yet here I am.

On the cusp of failure, I worry I can never be what you see.

I'm terrified that I don't belong, I want to belong, like you said.

Today was the first time I thought of giving up.

But your voice helped claim the storm of my anxiety.

Like a high tide on a beach I awaited the ocean of my fears to drown me.

I scattered to look for anything to pull me back, and like a light house in the heart of the storm you brought me back to shore.

The cold waves turned into a slight mist and your voice guided me back to safety.

Your presence brought me out of the fog of my own head.

Soul searching on a dark damp bench.

I sat there on a cold rain riddened bench.

Wondering where you were off in the darkness of my emotional turmoil.

I sit here, not with you...

Talking about times past by, a moment that stuck to me like my shirt sticking to me in this heat.

"You are a young soul experiencing life for the first time, or you are an old soul slowing going insane trying to cling onto the past."

Never in my life did I actually wanna here that I am going insane expect for this moment.

The idea that this life wouldn't be my last kills me.

All these people whom I love and you and your warming presence, would all but disappear.

If I was this young soul I wouldn't remember you, those dumb sounds we would make on our sleepless walks.

The times of discovering new universe's and looking into the eyes of the master of stars.

Creating our own worlds, our own illusions shared like a small light of our speical little secrets.

The art that sparked me, the words that gave me a fire, your fire.

I looked up into the sparkled unicorn asking to give me an answer of what soul I am.

Yet no response just more circles of words sowing doubt through my mind that this life might not be it.

I would rather go insane, an old soul clining on the memories of his favorite life of his favorite people of his favorite person.

Clinging to the smell of your perfume, and the nicotine to sooth me.

I ask the unicorn where you are, and the long silence follows as the unicorn leaves me alone on the bench.

I don't want to forget this, I want to cling, I want to fight I want this to be it.

I sit with my head between my legs yearning for your embrace, yet you do not come but another.

A guide to take me away.

I walk alone in the silence of my mortal coil, looking at my bare feet hitting the flooded sidewalks, realizing how much you've influenced me in the smallest ways.

But than I felt it.

The warmth, a warmth so intense so bright and so wild it could be a forest fire.

I see you as the darkness leaves, the doubts of my existence fade as I no longer care if this is but the ramblings of a mad soul or a love song of a new soul discovering life.

I approach you as the smell of your perfume hits, hits just like nicotine to keep me safe.

Memories within the museum.

Let's take a walk together,

Going through all the years we spent.

Can this please last forever,

Do we dare to just be content.

Our memories of the past, stuck behind this pane of glass.

Is this something that we'd hope would last.

Fractions of our lives trapped in the past.

This museum of ours is as poetic as the leaves of grass.

Take with me, a journey through the times.

Good and bad, the flames kept going.

Will this be our final showing.

Or will the this keep us shining

Attraction turned into an attraction.

As fragile as a glass mansion.

Will we end up fractions of memories.

Or is this our own personal treasury.

Let's go through our little museum.

See our battles in the emotional coliseum.

Having fun in the exhibit of our affection.

These memories hit like a serotonin injection.

Closing time will eventually will come to fruition.

Do you think we could ever try this again.

I don't want this to be our final admission.

This museum of ours could be our final domain.

I'll be here if you wanna go down memory lane.

I don't care if it will cause me any pain.

Any moment together is all that I need.

Can I just tell you that you are a special breed.

I will sit around this museum till time ends.

At least we can still be best friends.

I'm just happy for what we made,

Even though this will fade.

I know how we feel about goodbyes so let's not.

Our souls and minds will always be connected

We will always have a special spot, inside our souls.

And I guess this is how it ended.

This little museum of speical moments.

This little museum of the broken.

This little museum of poets.

This little museum of the unspoken.

Just one more Cigarette.

Can we go back to how things used to be.

If we go back a few years maybe i will see.

The nights we used to spend smoking a cigarette or two.

I'll just smoke another cigarette just to be with you.

Just one more cigarette to remember.

Just one more cigarette to never forget.

Maybe than I will see.

Please just one more cigarette for the hope of what used to be.

The smoke rises with our spirits.

With a cigarette I was at my clearest.

I'm afraid of when I'm out.

That my soul will be left to shout.

Can we share one more cigarette between us.

I don't want it to burn any longer.

I hope that I can be stronger.

And continue into the night to discuss.

Just one more cigarette to laugh.

Just one more cigarette to connect.

Just one more chance to say,

Please stay.

Maybe the cigarettes burned to fast.

All time we spent together was a blast.

But yet I flicked the ashes away.

Falling with our dreams of Broadway.

A pack left all alone.

I wish I never let you go.

Losing the one person I could call home.

With dreams of going to the show.

Just one more cigarette to tell you I will always care.

Just one more cigarette to say I will always love you.

Just one more cigarette to show you it's true.

Just one more cigarette is not enough to bare.

Can we share one more cigarette under a starry night.

Under the moonlight where you shine so bright.

I don't want to live with any regrets.

Can we share a few more cigarettes.

If the cigarettes burn away.

Please just let me say.

I just want your Happiness.

And nothing less.

Can we just have one more cigarette?

Sometimes in your life it just hits you. What the next step is when shit hits the fan and you are left alone in a state of disbelief that life has hit you straight in the fucking face with the cold hard reality that you could very well be left with nothing to accomplish or achieve within your life. The cold hard creeping hand of adulthood that will dropkick you into a state of "oh fuck oh shit what is my life." And I'll be the first one to say it i have no fucking clue what to do.

"Hey it's me... i know it's been a while but i just wanted you to know, i think i'm better now. Maybe you never saw it or maybe you just didn't want to believe it, but things were tough. i did try things i promise. i fell in love, i traveled, i got an education. Everything you wanted, well i never called, i never got to spend those nights by a campfire with you, i never got to hike that mountain, never went down that river, i never got to show you my successes, my first love, my first apartment, my first film... i never got to tell you how important you were to me, how you made me the person i am today... i just hope you knew... i was always shit at that.... and well... i miss you... rest in peace."

At some moment in my life, at some time in my life, i just want to find someone that never makes me feel alone. i'm so tired of looking out at everyone in my life and always feeling alone. In every party, in every coffee shop, in every get together they all come and congregate, but yet why do i feel this way? Is it the crippling anxiety, depression and fear finally showing through this mask that i call life or is it the simplest reason of them all, that i'm just not worthy of their time.

My throat closes up every waking moment. The idea of loss, the idea of being back on the road hits my throat like nicotine. To go back to home is a thing i long for, but where is that exactly, for a moment i felt as if it was on the coast but being surrounded by everyone and feeling like a stranger in my own home tells me otherwise. Should i grab my bag and hit the road again, will i ever feel at home again? Will i ever find out where i belong? i guess i’ll just have to follow my heart.

i remember.

i remember the sound of rain. i remember the smell of cigarettes on my hands. i remember the knock on my door. i remember you looking at me drenched from the storm. i remember talking until the sun came up. i remember being the person you could count on. i remember coming to you when i had no one else. i remember the smell of your perfume. i remember your laugh. i remember the song we sang. i remember the troube we caused. i remember the art we made. i remember the long walks at night. i remember sitting under the stars. i remember being on that bridge. i remember those long car drives. i remember the future we planned together. i remember the sadness we made. i remember the fights we had. i remember the tears we shed. i remember falling in love. i remember saying goodbye. i remember how much i hate goodbyes.

Breathe

She sits in the silence of her own thoughts yet her breathe tells me storys of love, of loss, of old adventures and of new ones to come. Her eyes pierce through my thoughts, as she stares into my soul. Her lips tell me where she is going. Her voice echos into the chambers of my heart. Her soul tells me that all the suffering was not in vain, that all the heartbreak, that all that loneliness was to be here, it was all to see her in the moonlight of her hometown. It was to stare out into the mountains and dream of what is to come. It was to fall for her. It was to hear her breathe on my chest at night to know that i am not alone.

Does A Traveler Truly Belong Anywhere?

i was told once that "you belong here, because you belong with me." This phrase has been clambering through my head night and night again. Years have past since those words saved me in my time of need, but now they echo like an old scar, the remembrance of feeling alone, no, of being alone. i have traveled from coast to coast, mountain to mountain, heart to heart, but yet i come back to the intersections of my mind, do i belong. This is the answer i seek, maybe i have turned a blind eye to it or maybe it will be found on my travels, or maybe i left it behind. So maybe it's off to the road again so that i might discover this question i seek, or maybe i will live my life as a wondering nomad and just keep heading west, keeping out of sight and out of mind.

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A.F. Harper (writer in progrees)