we drag our feet along the sharp divide
clean and crisp in one stroke
scratching and blurring along scuffs
sharp eyes look forward
and wonder back

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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Andulka
ojovivo

shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything
Show & Tell
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Peter Solarz

Love Begins

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
No title available

#extradirty

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@puzzlingpemberley
we drag our feet along the sharp divide
clean and crisp in one stroke
scratching and blurring along scuffs
sharp eyes look forward
and wonder back
it really is me, not you
please don’t hate me
it was great
you were really great
everything was fine
but I wasn’t fine
You, at almost eighteen told me
"The only exciting thing I find about myself is my heartbeat"
You inhale reprimands and failures
Making your breath come in stutters
And your heartbeat in sputters
But there's a tale in that incessant beating
And I've spent my life chasing stories
A conversation with myself
Why do you do it? I don't know. It hurts. It scrapes at the insides and tries to burn the rest. Why do you do it? I don't know. I guess I never knew anything besides this pain. The compression and the ever so delicate suffocation. Why do you do it? Because nothing else makes sense. I don't know. Why do you do it? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Why do you do it? I'm scared.
that last memory the color of candlelight streaked across morning
Words that shouldn't be on my tombstone
Patient. Gentle. Kind. There's a fuse cut too short, fraying at the edges and itching for confrontation. Bitter and rough. It leaves burns as it sparks and cuts across skin. Friend. Wife. Lover. Webs are jilted, stretched thin or displaced, dropping pieces in a plane of disconnection. I never knew how to trust beyond my own.
He can see her when it's raining. But when light catches the edge of his window and bursts into glimmers, he sees blue The shade that he looks for when it's bright and everything is pale or maybe it's that everything pales In comparison to blue eyes and the quick pace behind his ears But he sees HER when it's raining And she is no drop of crystal glinting before desperate eyes She is not the puff of breath on brisk mornings She is no shade of captivating blue He traces patterns around the window and something catches He's heaving and coughing because she's there in the translucence She's not blue Or red or green or any broken tertiary pigment There's no vibrancy shattered across a page Or broken in the air She isn't lovely Or beautiful She doesn't show him WHAT IT IS TO LIVE She's not the heartbeat that echoes behind his ears. she's not the tint he needs to see. she's not the gasp he needs to breath. She's the moment behind puddles. And the shudder that's trapped in his lungs, She's the reminder that some day HE WILL DIE. And she will be there too
in fits of delusion and hazy imaginings you mean too much to me and i find myself shaking and stumbling but you filter through effortlessly will it end when you're gone? will i think clearly? will i forget? will i breathe again? when loose hopes are terminated and there's nothing except what i wish had happened i wish it had happened
nothing works anymore.
hands,
trembling and useless.
feet,
stumbling and misshapen
eyes, dumb.
ears, blind.
mouth, deaf.
mind?
what a fucker it's become
in the sliver of time between midnight and a minute past
there is nothing but the sound of your voice
and a nostalgia i have never felt before
it's apprehension and sadness and an overwhelming anxious desire
pulled together with a dash of inexplicable giddiness
compressed inside a fragment of time
i grasp frantically at fleeting emotions that wrap themselves around a slow beat
those that linger throughout a muggy day
but at a minute past,
it's just smoke and a scent that fills me
it's one in the morning and this has happened before
i can feel routine etched into my skin
but slight grooves have gotten deeper
and there are dimensions swirled around a stretched complexion
i know this feeling
i've felt it bubble beneath my chest and trickle from my eyes
but it's strange all the same
it's a word
pounded and abused
a sliver on your tongue that flits gently between your teeth
repeated so many times that
suddenly it's foreign
with strange accents and a different emphasis
familiarity has overstayed its welcome
and all at once
i know nothing at all
love
one day she met a boy
they fell in love behind thick lenses and stacks of books
she loved the way he slipped his pencil behind his ear
she loved the way he shook his leg when nervous
she loved the way he loved her
innocently and unconditionally
….
but boys are not stronger than hunks of metal
and the heart she stole stopped beating
soon even thumping inside her chest was broken
though there wasn’t much left in the end
….
she met a man years later
and he gave her desire
so she gave him a child
under wedding bells and sheets of white
he promised to care for her
to care for them
all her petty human desires he took and carried
but not the love she wanted
she craved his affection but it was sparse and fleeting
soon eyes were wandering and chips of her heart flew away
….
months later she met a child
with her eyes and his hair
little and squirming about
but she felt nothing
there was nothing left to give
because all pieces were broken and gone
and for all of her efforts
she couldn’t love this child
….
she knew three loves in her life
the one she lost
the one she desired
and the one she couldn’t give
when the lights finally dim
and all i see are dull shapes outlined faintly by dying stars
i can hear the faint drumming
maybe it's my heart beating a little too loudly
maybe it's the neighbors
but i hear the anthem of our desperation
the things we used to be
and the things i desperately wish we were
it fills a quiet room
rebounding from my dresser and desk
smothering and seeping into my fingers
it's the jilted rhythm i can't help but tap
when my hands refuse to be still
do you hear it?
I’m so tired of feeling alone
Because there’s so many feelings and fears that bounce around in my head
And sometimes they hurt
Because there’s too many somethings where nothing should be
And there’s too much nothing where I cry for something
There’s a barrier between what I see and what I am and everything is so fucking exhausting
Nothing’s wrong though
I should be happy
Why aren’t I happy
Nothing is wrong. Something is good.
But I’m still lonely and tired and everything is beautiful but I can’t feel anything.
I want to talk to you to remind me that I can be something more
That there’s more than the words that keep me company while turning me insane
Talk to me.
Take these words away from me.
They hurt and I’m tired.
Please forgive my terrible lack of eloquence because this place this terrible simple and awful place has driven me insane. I can no longer think properly and it should be outlawed for decisions to be made after midnight for one so utterly neurotic and ridiculous as I. Such choices ought to be demolished and forsaken for fear of irrationality. Irrationality. The terrible and awful thing I suffer from now. This very stupid moment now.
We are the time of confusion and pain and an endless procession of blinding colors
Cutting and pasting parts of ourselves to fit the puzzling spaces of the crowd
Iridescence bleeds upon futile attempts to forget the parts of us broken and torn apart
As remnants of lighter shades rub off the pieces left behind
We are the time doomed to loose ourselves
To fade into inexplicable mass of forgotten traits and chips of paint
The buzzing of the ever massing society clamors and demands attention But openings and placements are oft concealed and moments of uncertainty dangle beside those comfortable few Complacency beckons and solitude brims of soft amenity Such that is never nurtured among the tatters of esteem and those that delight in their deconstruction Oh, to be young.