Unwaking
Some days I never wake up. I just walk around acting like I’m not in bed the place I’m told by my own eyes that I’m supposed to be.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@siphonthenight
Unwaking
Some days I never wake up. I just walk around acting like I’m not in bed the place I’m told by my own eyes that I’m supposed to be.
How I Lost Them
Every little marble Fell Fell Fell Fell
And s c a t t e r e d a l l o v e r.
Night Dwellers
Travelers of a different pace through time like us, yet in their own way. We may walk by night and day, Yet they're stuck in their own haze. Let them sleep have their fun. Just tell them that they're not forgotten. If you see this at some weird hour, oh seeker of waking power, It's okay. Live your life. Free of worries and any strife. We're all going to the same place. Life is about more Then any race. Live it the best with your clan. I believe in you. I know you can.
I did it! I did it?
Even if it's certain I don't have the trust to fully believe the prize in my hand is really there. I can feel it with my own palm, yet how could gold fall into my fingers? Am I worthy of it? Did I really do the task?
I locked the door right? I mean here I am miles away after winning a title I don't even feel that I've earned, but is that door locked? I checked it right? ....Am I remembering me checking it on a different day?
Oh, thank you. You're too kind. Sorry, I was just absorbed in thought about my door. I locked it right? Yeah, I did. Right?
Vent
Let’s talk this out
with wide open words
so that we know
nothing malicious
can slip between
the cracks of our teeth
without the intention
of our own hearts.
Give me everything
bottled up
in my own flavor
while serve you
my own brew.
Let’s give it
to the open air
so we’ll no longer
cough from
holding our tongues.
"It's not hopeless,"
we tell ourselves
as we make our way
in a world where hope
has become forgotten
candles that some
must snuff out
or else their world
will burn
It's not hopeless
we can still
bring the flame back
Word Meadows
I've lost myself among the meadows of letters and words I'm deep in the throes of a unrecognizable place that's all too familiar Learning to speak the language of my heart once again.
I lost the way to find the words hidden on the page unwritten, undreamed by any mortal like me
What’s Next
What the wind blows my way I don’t always have a say, but if I had to take a guess if asked to post more, I’d say yes. I reckon I might give it another go What’s next is for the fates to know.
Back to Tumblr
I’m not sure that this place, this place I called my home so many years ago, ever looked so fine to me then it does now in the mirror that I use to look back. Perhaps my mirror Is just a bit too polished, nostalgia brightening the image I see now when I’m remembering those special times. Maybe I’m the one that’s changed so much that I can’t help but look back to what was so fondly. Regardless, it’s good to see this wonderful view once again. Let’s see where things go.
The burning iron dings, as it hits my hollow walls, as it falls down me.
Envy
It eats everything, eats everything, until your empty. Can’t throw it away, throw it away, this jealous envy. Trying to sleep, trying to sleep? I don’t think so. Can’t even breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t let go. It’s burning inside, hollowing me out. I’m not sure of myself, as it goes down.
Cause who I be, after it feasts on me? Will there be anything left?
I’m lost in thoughts
Tormented by echos
Words that will never
See the light of day
Still with what haunts me
I have little choice
Except to continue on
Never listening except
To those that don’t
Weigh on me so much
Routine
One, two, three, four. Everyday, sometimes more, Keep on doing, everything. Like performing in a scene. Repeating the same routine, Like some programmed machine. Eat, work, sleep, dream. Coffee, sugar, then cream. One, four, three, two. Sometimes something new. A new play, a new show. Giving me hope.
It's the final performance of my last play before I graduate college in less than two weeks.
Sometimes it feels like I’ve only got a pocket’s worth of air Inside of my chest and lungs When I need to summon a gust of breath That will shake the ground with my shouts Of rage and pain, of desparation But all that comes out is a whisper
Sometimes I’m a bit too nice, such as, when you shoved, the cold dagger into my heart, I held it there for you, and even helped you take aim.