#dead writer

[fieriframes]

[The only good writer was a dead writer.]

[raygeorgedias]

The morning demands of me to glide over the keys and proclaim something of naught. My hands can’t move with the same agility as a swooning robin but it can melt butter with warmth. I can feel vines growing within the creases of this aqualung. I have been drowning from the time I was scooped out from the womb. I see myself in you. I see the same flaws. And by God, my dear God, they’ve never looked more beautiful.

[chalk-reverie]

Love of a Dead Writer

If you want somebody why don’t you put an effort to like you back?

I am not the kind of girl that could fall for a sweet goodnight-I-love-you thingy

I am not the kind of girl that could fall for just a love at first sight

I am not the kind of girl that could fall for your chocolates and flowers

I am not that kind of girl. I am nobody. I am nothing.

I am not desperate, I am not looking.

I am here, and can’t engage.

i am not what you think, I am not what I look 

I am not that kind of girl who’d fall for you. 

I am not searching, I am waiting.

For something that is not real, that is invisible,

I am a fantasy, a dream. Unreachable dead.

I am dead.

You shouldn’t be in love with a cold writer.

A colorless girl. 

[fieriframes]

[TO BE ABLE TO STOP AND WASH DOWN THE '67. SO HERE I AM IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS, AND THE ONLY GOOD WRITER WAS A DEAD WRITER HAS COME OUT OF A VENDING MACHINE, SO YOU GOT TO KNOW I WAS TOTALLY BLOWN AWAY]

[briseisgone]

NOT MY LAPTOP LETTING ME DOWN :((

I need to drop it tomorrow to the informatician, so he'll see if there's something he can do. Definitely can't buy another one.

[chalk-reverie]

Okay lang iyan

Meron pang pag-asa

Naiintindihan kita

Huwag kang susuko

Laban tayo

Ha 😊

[theimperfectdreamwriter]

Recite your prayers to your god praise satan in your life Praise and blow a god swallow his belief maybe you can change on the inside Birth to a beauty Its origin is from catastrophe Perhaps that’s where my love should be

Investing in a soul Inside their home There was a worthless goodbye The proof was a wasted bullet casing next to a body I’m sure I once recognized I see the gun in the hand of a man with a tatt saying “forgiveness is a treat” Now I know this boy (it’s me) Wrist saying in a cross “mother & father” I guess they never planned to have a son so weak giving up While his other wrist stated “I won’t give up on you” But he gave up on himself His last cry begged for love to stay

Abandoned with thoughts and drugs to waste He made a plan that day and gave himself a way out With a bullet engraved with complicated writing Saying “Now you can be free”