gizmowit

poets die ; locution lives

[thequotejournals]

…We only obsess over relationships that feel unfinished.

Carrie Bradshaw (via thequotejournals)

[gizmowit]

𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗕𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗘

The heart and the mind are forever conflicting.

The heart and the mind are forever sinking.

The heart and the mind are forever syncing.

The heart and the mind are forever linking.

Our hearts  and minds forever conflicts.

Forever conflicting forever linking forever looping forever swooping

Can we stop conflicting?

Stop thinking.

Forever be linking

Tried eyes tired Tired eyes tired

Seeing Non being None beings

Mother Earth sinking. Patiently waiting to work as one.

A bit like A lot like

the moon & the sun

Patiently working as  one

// gizmowit

[gizmowit]

𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗨𝗗𝗘 #𝟭

You need to know yourself.

Before you start fucking with somebody else ; You need to know yourself

before you start fucking with some bodies, else

your vibe can not always remain the same when you are stuck in a game Living in a world full of dismay it gets hard to cope Constantly in choke.

and all they have to say :

“OH ; you’ve changed.”

// gizmowit

[gizmowit]

𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗠𝗘

I want to move your panties to the side. I want to run my fingers inside. I want you to already be gushy as a product of me just biting your tushy, ass I really want it.

Want it. Want you to Want it.

Want it.

I wanna see that lo_ok on your face 

That “When you gonna hurry up

take a taste.” face.

See, my women; they conclude me.

my women ; Well ; they confuse me.

My women ignite me. My women : always, in spite of me ( I choose ).

My women are my saviours. My women often lack behaviour, direct result of my own behaviour ( or lack there of ).

My women don’t like me

because I am always trying to fight me.

// gizmowit

[gizmowit]

𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗕𝗘𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗢 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗣𝗧.𝗢𝗡𝗘

Some beginnings have no end.

B U T

i remember you

too no end

and

that became

th end.

// gizmowit

[gizmowit]

“𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥”

mother thinks I should be grateful to her for this life. mother thinks that I should be thankful for this strife. mother thinks I only get one. That my tattoos, I should not have done. mother thought the sexual orientation was just a phase. mother thought you must try being “straight”  before you can actively decide for yourself to join the “gays”. Because the penis is so mighty you must sit on it before you decide against the hetero-ways Because you can’t possibly know what you want at, or by, a certain age.

I was still always asked what I wanted for dinner. Still harassed if I did not answer, or merely lingered. But what I CHOSE to do with my fingers ; well that CHOICE was always an awful demeanour.

mother thinks I should be grateful . . .

to her . . .

for this life.

Suicide

has been a

consistent

reoccurring

thought

since

the age of

five

.

mother thinks I should be grateful.

// gizmowit

[gizmowit]

𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗙𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗗, 𝗧𝗢 𝗝𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡

Pain body embodies pain.

from my veins to the archers of my back that whimper : “I’m in love with you.”

We deem demons the creator of our fearz.

Leave ego’mind, unaccountable for it’s actions

Desires of liars and halfwits.

I laugh at it.

Spark till I’m lit.

Grass woven.

high, high, high thoughts. high, high, high thoughts.

Flames flicker

when I’m with you all I get is

high thoughts.

we made it // Cloud 9’in til grave’n’shit Scratch marks running wild down front’n’back’n’shit.

Aftermath Equals Equity

You wailing; while you cave’n’shit ; grown’n’brave’n’shit.

Bear hugs so you know you’re loved. Bare hugs so you know you’re loved.

I rise when you fall.

I sing when you call.

I done wi’dis.

back rows, back seats, second best, at best, at least.

We only fostered relief.

Adopted chaos in heaps.

Here’s the blue-print, moon tint, flu sprint. We never rose from ashes.

We soared from volcanic lava, ropes and balaclavas.

From tender moments of surrender, babbles of tenacious pleasure.

Forever yours ; or at least, as the moment calls.

Presence adores the flaws of us, that only exist outside we.

Netflix and tai-chi.

Presence adores the flaws of we.

I caught chills and they multiplied.

I   T E T R I S  through demise.

What’s a puzzle with lost in peace pieces?

What’s me without thee?

What’s third without degree?

What’s order without decree?

What’s root without growth.

I wonder. In bare ponder.

Of intuition, I’ve grown fonder.

Of you, don’t squander.

bare self care without sombre.

Take care, May-Mare.

Adieu, Boo.

// gizmowit