unlistlessnessing

  “But I don’t want comfort. I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”— Aldous HuxLey, Brave New World   

[coffinbone]

I wonder if everyone else on the highway in their cars or trucks, windows rolled up or down stereo on, humming along are all drowning too drowning with a smile on And I want to call out to that guy on the street corner every day that I see him, that I know him that our paths must be the same for a reason because I am always running exactly five minutes late to work every day, and there he always is so we are basically kin and kin should try to help each other when drowning but I can’t say that because we are supposed to drown quietly with smiles and dignity So I drive to work. Stereo on, humming along.

[coffinbone]

And these days, I wonder If I’m inventing ghosts again Or if I’m just like a wind And if you leave open a window I’ll just float right out Because I have so many places Left to go And even if you shut me in I’ll find cracks in your foundation And I’ll slip right through And if you tried to hold me You’d find that I was Never really there Because I’m elusive I’m intangible I’m not real I’m just the air That you breathe I’m just the wind Rattling the trees

[coffinbone]

Bored, lonely and procrastinating responsibilities... anyone want to chat?

[nuhstalgicsoul-deactivated20180]

When I’m in the mountains, I am home. Sequoia National Park, California

[coffinbone]

Missing these giant trees and giant mountains.

[wondrousworld]

Sequoia National Park, California, United States by Andrew Luyten

[coffinbone]

it rains here all the time now and you never look at me the way I always thought someone someday would and when you’re gone, I get drunk and talk to myself with the TV on to feel less alone.

[wnq-writers]

The problem is I’m seeking permanence in a very temporary world.

(via humerror)

[coffinbone]

3am, I'm lusting for the woods, where night fell with such resolution. Here, it's never clear, whether I'm awake or dreaming. I over think the idea that either has more meaning.

[coffinbone]

Remember when we were So young and so dumb And you punched holes in my ears After too much vodka and beer?  Well, since then, I've grown up. Now I'm just old and dumb, Poking holes in my plans After too much whiskey and wine

[coffinbone]

They say you can’t feel gravity or the spinning of the earth oh, but I do, every once in a while when you look at me I feel the earth shift beneath my feet and it’s a little dizzying And some days,  the gravity gets heavier  than others and the air gets thick like glue but then I see you, in the distance and even gravity gets a little weak

[coffinbone]

waiting

waiting on the rain to clear waiting for stretching sandy wet-kissed summer days waiting for the heat to subside waiting for frosty lipped stocking-footed snow days always waiting on something else, some other time waiting on the caffeine waiting for that finger tapping, lip biting build-up like shivery nails climaxing down your back waiting on the whiskey to warm my stomach like a soft cat in your lap like the oxygen after sex waiting to go to bed waiting to really wake up waiting for sleep to remember who I am waiting for everyone to forget who I am always waiting on something or someone to show me where I already am

[watchoutforintellect]

I think perhaps I need to be on the road where I get so tired I can’t feel sad.

Anne Sexton - from A Self-Portrait in Letters (via watchoutforintellect)

[coffinbone]

I want to be your devastation

I want to be your creation I want to be the expansion Of your universe Or your god I want to be your only light But I’m just a faint candlelight And I want to be your destruction I want to be your wars, your art Your language and culture I want to be your elation, your suffering I want to be your symphony But I’m just a background melody And I want to be your hunger, Your love and your pain I want to be your memories And all the fears in your brain But I’m just a passing thought, A passing pang I want to be your colors your sleep, your breath, your taste I want to be your warmth I want to be the chemistry That holds you together But I’m just a single atom I want to be your religion Your rapture I want to be your world I want to save you I want to ruin you I want to love you Devastatingly I want to love you Like a hurricane But I’m just a passing rainstorm

[coffinbone]

I've still got these words Snarled in my hair And I can't get them out Where is this going? Is this going anywhere?

Rain is falling harder The trees just stand and shudder And the dog is seeing ghosts again And I'm on my second glass Of wine again 

And you, staring solemnly Into a numb faceless screen And sometimes I watch you Just to see If you notice me (You don't) 

And the trees Are dropping leaves Faster and faster And I'm painting them back As fast as I can 

And there's these words Stuck in the bottom of my glass With the dust and backwash That I can't seem to swallow 

 Is this going anywhere?

[coffinbone]

Hey guys! Check out my latest poem (with artwork by yours truly ^^) and reblog it to help me win a scholarship! I’m super broke so I’d be super stoked for your help! <3<3<3

http://www.powerpoetry.org/poems/i-am-searching-1 @powerpoetryslam @powerpoetryblog @powerpoetry I am searching searching for a niche in which my heart can beat searching for faces with eyes not made of glass in a concrete world of games abstract

I fled deep into the heart of the woods and hiked across its roaring river veins where it pulsed heavily with wildness with feathered and fanged and fearsome things and the giant redwoods and unblinking aspen always watching over me, a cell in this beautiful lawless mess of chemistry too large and complex for me to understand

And I did not find any answers but I did find that my bones were made of more than just indecision and air And I fell in love with sleeping deep in the thundering throat of the woods And I fell in love with the wordless creatures that rule with unwritten rules the darkest nights and the unfiltered air

In a place where you’re still allowed to die I found a passion for living

But I’m still searching for a niche in which my heart can beat fiercely and run wild and my roots can grow deep and wise

I am a wandering soul, a lingering hope I am searching

[coffinbone]

Some things about me that have changed since you knew me. I took up everything you loved. Red lipstick, sundresses, combat boots, beer, cigarettes. I took up everything you hated. Cheesy music, red wine, bars, cigarettes. Just layers of clothes and vices really. I got a dog and a truck and I took to the woods. I got lost in the mountains and slept in the cold. But most things have stayed the same. Crooked ribs and nose and low self esteem. A love for wordless animals and dissecting their brains. Reading poetry I can feel but can't quite grasp and staying up til dawn, hoping naiively to find more there. Always looking for a happiness I never quite have. But the loneliness has always been something deeper that I sensed I needed not to banish but to someday understand. And I've learned so much but here I still am. Covered in unrecognizable layers of life and dirt and sweat and peace and pain and love and hate and maybe some bruises and blood. But still made of the same old crooked bones. Here I am.

[coffinbone]

and when the hair on your arms stands on end and you know a storm is coming in again I’ll be waiting in the rain for you to come grasp me like a violent wind light me up like lightning illuminate my veins and when the thunder starts to shake the house let’s rattle the furniture even louder and when the crashing cracks open the sky with supernatural light and reverberates through my bones and through my teeth so loud now and we’re pouring from the sky and the storm wants you for itself but I have you tight by your thighs my nails to your bones as passion tears open above and oh my god the sky snarling the clouds crying I think we will die as we collide as hard as our cells will bear and tear each other down down, back to earth wet earth under your face sprawling skin and mud and the storm grumbles its hungry, aching lust and subsides in approval to a soft drizzling shiver of goosebumps and rumbles