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“𝑰 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆. 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒕. 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕—𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒆𝒕.”

— 𝑨𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 (𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑺á𝒆𝒏𝒛)

I could use every word related to mysterious and it still would not be able to capture how hard it is to grasp the concept of you.

𝐶𝑟𝑦𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑐. Everything that leaves your lips might as well be a riddle, or a metaphor of some sort. The speed of how you change the figurative devices in your words resemble a metronome. Always fluctuating in a pace I could never catch up to, no matter how hard I tried. Sometimes, even the noises you make end up confusing me; the laughter that bubbles out your throat when the smile does not even reach your eyes, the huffs that seem too playful to be considered angry. You keep on leaving me puzzled, but I will gladly take on every challenge if it means more of you.

𝐴𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑜𝑢𝑠. Actions speak louder than words, but it is also capable of sending mixed signals. These are signs that not even my years as a self-proclaimed smooth sailor could identify. It is always a question that merely requires a simple yes, or no. A question whose answer will always be found in either side of what is, or what isn't— but I should have known that amidst the black and white world, someone like you will exist. Someone who stays in the gray area. It has given me skepticism each time I look at my compass, having learned that an arrow pointing upwards does not always mean I have found true north.

𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑛𝑔. The nagging at the back of my head is there again, like an itch that I could never quite satisfy. Continuously, I am vexed by the idea of you that I have only made up in my mind, as I am aware of how it clashes with the you that walks upon this land. However, it is not entirely just a figment of my imagination; I could only make you up using the little things you hand over and leave behind. Could you really say I have started admiring a different version of you, knowing that? Or would that just be an addition? I decided I do not mind. After all, I could never be satisfied with just one part of you— if I started truly wanting you for myself, that is. Mayhaps I'll start pondering on the thought of whether you'd let me have all of you, instead.

𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. I have seen people strip off their armour under my gaze; it is a power I have began to wield a while back, but have seldomly put it to use. A method proven true by the majority which helps you avoid getting tricked— includes fixing your stare into someone's eyes as you speak to them, it made the truth come out. And yet you have exempted yourself from such display of vulnerability. The walls you have built for yourself fascinate me in ways I cannot express, it has stood there far too longer than you let on, I know that much. Believe when I say I have no intentions on breaking them down by force, for I may only succeed in entering these massive barricades if you let me in by choice. Until then, I will patiently admire the old engravings that bear the story you have chosen to tell.

There are a lot of people that I could easily define with words that belong to a specific concept; pretty, tough, inspiring, despicable— some would even count for simply normal. But not you, no. Certainly never you, and I wouldn't have you any other way.

Note: This is something to commemorate the day of when Aristotle and Dante met. The 15th of June, in the year 1987. This book means a lot to me, since not only has it made me feel a lot— it also gained me a friend.

Additional note: The pictures attached are “Nighthawks” by Edward Hopper, and “The Raft of the Medusa” by Théodore Géricault, both of which are Dante and Aristotle's favorite paintings, respectively.

#literature #poetry #spilled thoughts #word dump #writing #martini writes #aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe #aridante #angel aristotle mendoza #dante quintana

Schrödinger's People.

They are every one you face and encounter on a daily basis. They are to be, and not to be, until you've seen for yourself everything they are capable of. Although one lifetime is never really enough to know a person from the inside and out.

They hold numerous jars while simultaneously being the Pandora to everyone else. Their hearts contain gifts and inconveniences that no man will ever have hands large enough to gather it all; even palms cupped together will not withstand the entirety that is one human, eventually it will still overflow.

Whether they are dead or alive is not the question this time around. The black and white areas of this universe has long mashed together into a vague yet dominant gray; splattering paint against the blank canvas. The world has long turned its back against the camps of yes and no, only presenting a wide battlefield of maybe for everyone to get lost in, and find themselves at the same time.

Whether they are good or bad is not something we have control over, nor do our minds have the authority to provide judgement that will ultimately define their identities, and how worthy they are to be human. However, we still continue to do so on our own accord, with thoughts powered by morals and preferences and the most trivial things that our judgement could offer.

These people house attractions for the public, introducing a selection that varies: A house of mirrors to the insecure, with every self-deprecating and degradation coming right back at you the moment the words roll off your tongue. A haunted maze hidden deep within where only the brave may enter, those who lack courage will be kept off its grounds. It is the master that deems who is worthy to see the ugly and the bad, and even then, mere humans still won't be able to experience the peak of evil and violent thoughts that rage inside, if the master himself refuses to.

These attractions also house wonders that not meant for the public, like the never-ending joy of being in Disneyland; laughing until you collapse in tears, creating a memory that will forever remain vivid in your minds as time passes on. And the fluttering feeling of falling in love when you pass the tunnel, or the names you engrave in each lock until it takes up the entire wall. These are wonders that a select few may only ever see, a number that only the master of the park has the rights to list down.

Schrödinger's People is everyone, yet they could also be no one at the very same time. After all, how does one simply say, and with confidence, that they have seen and known every bit that makes up one entire person?

— 003

#spilled thoughts #word dump #literature #writing #poetry #martini writes #it's been so long since I last wrote something aha #classes really be draining me huh #schrodinger #pandoras box

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦? 𝘐𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺. 𝘐𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥?

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵; 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥— 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦.

𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘦.

𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰.

— 001

#spilled thoughts #word dump #literature #poetry #writing #martini writes

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍, 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒑.

There are tons of ways to mask your fear.

Sometimes, you can slap a ready made smile onto your lips, all freshly manufactured by the factories of what and what not to do. Sometimes, drowning out the millions of thoughts streaming into your consciousness with loud banging music is the only way to go. Sometimes, showing no emotion as you read through the headlines prove your faux indifference towards what is happening around you. Sometimes, going into a certain period of rest tightens the lid on your already overflowing terror, successfully preventing any leaks.

It usually isn't that hard to fake a front for the blinding flashes of the seemingly woke and newer generation of paparazzi's, and their aggressively criticizing cameras — all prepared to sniff out the slightest hint of anxiety radiating from your practiced pose and well rehearsed words. Celebrities should know, they do it all the time after all. You should not be any different, you've already learned the art of faking bravery and happiness for the people around you at such a young age. You're doing great, even.

Always keep in mind though, the wolves in this society are hybrids that come from hungry predators and the mentality to devour the tiniest bit of contrasting view; an iota of something odd. They've waited for the moment to pounce on the sliver of your weaknesses for so long, but it's not like we don't know that yet, right?

It's the instances in between the realization and the attack that sticks out the most — the momentarily pause as it hits them, heart in each of your throats, as they recognize you as part of the oddities and prey — the few beats of silence that leave you no choice but to resign to your fate.

You tried to mask your fear, but they have managed to disarm you of your armour, unkindly. Exposing you, and the thoughts that have gathered in your mind. Now they're picking you apart, bit by bit.

A sigh. You think about the progression of events. The unknowing gazes turned into apprehension, the measly second of being put inside the box — you were both an ally and an enemy then — and the moment thereafter, suddenly the subject of their vulturous eyes. You don't know if you would rather place yourself in the situations of before, during, or after. One is no better than the other, what is there to choose?

Diversity, none. Adversity? Tenfold.

#literature #poetry #spilled thoughts #word dump #writing #martini writes #prose #musing

— 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 (𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝)

It's not as if he ever forgot this crucial fact. He just remembers how much of a hopeless romantic he is at night, when most of his world is already in the midst of their daily slumber.

The way he longs for the domesticity after being exposed to it once is no different from a child in a fair; overly excited at everything and nothing. From the rides, to the rigged games he has yet to try and lose in, and snacks that he would get tired of a few years from now.

It's a crappy analogy but it works best to resemble the flurry of emotions that comes in different ways. Waking up next to her in the morning is a pretty image. The thought of it gets him fond to no end. Imagining the way she'd smile as he greets her first thing regardless of bad breaths and messy hair and eye gunks. She'd say she looks ugly but to him, an angel faced woman is there, laying next to him before they lazily entangle their bodies once more, because it's too damn early to be awake in the morning. Sleeping in would look more inviting. His touch-starved ass would be more than happy to stay in bed and just take in the presence of his beloved anyway.

He can't cook, so either she does or they order takeout. Occasions that will bring about puns that are uncalled for and snorting over food. Table etiquette long discarded as they drop at both ends of the sofa while the television is on, yet their attentions moreso focused on each other than whoever was acting on screen. He thinks about this, and almost swoons, — no, this isn't about the patriarchal society we've all been born in, gender roles are wack, — a lady who can handle being responsible choosing to give him her precious time, eating her meals with someone like him? Who wouldn't feel like a man who wins at life?

Happiness might as well come in the form of her. Giving him bouts of fresh air when everything is suffocating in the world; gentle pats, soft whispers, the littlest gestures that speak so much than words can offer. And happiness might as well take over his entire being when the frown on her face so much as threatens to show up. Taking her out on unprompted trip so she can breathe, binge watching their favourite anime if she ever wants to stay only within the comforts of their walls, going into a state of prolonged tomfoolery because every embarrassment is worth it if it's the reason for even an iota of her smiles. He thinks of how nice it would be to be able to rely on someone like that, and to be depended on in return. Of being able to let go of everything and have only her in his arms, while he quite literally protects her from anything that could bring her the slightest amount of pain. A you-and-me against the world kind of trope.

When he glances at the window, he sees the sky beginning to light up. He notices once again how the thought of her has kept him up, the thought of them, the thought of being together. There are no regrets in losing sleep over feeding his delusions of them ever getting to that point— except for not being able to think of a hundred scenarios more while everything was still quiet — because now, he has to face the reality of another busy day with noisy streets and grumpy people.

The bed is too big for a lone man, so he stands up and prepares to start living. The fair is closing for the night, so the kid goes home to get some rest. They're different people, yet the man and the boy agree to visit their own wonderful place soon.

#spilled thoughts #literature #martini writes #writing #poetry #word dump

Would it be Enough?

#writing #poetry #word dump #spilled thoughts #literature #martini writes #we both die at the end #cried over that book #still cry over it from time to time

Now (og: 170421)

Like tears that exist when our emotions build up

we, humans, do too

Like leaves in spring that adds more green in the forest

our colours burst to life as well

Like great waves that exist when the sea is raging

our influence is capable of rippling

Like raindrops that fall from the clouds at this moment

the expectations we set won't always be met

But not until the emotions die down and go back to normal

will the momentarily tears be gone

Not when the season turns from spring to autumn

will the leaves wither and fall to the ground

Not until the sea is calm and has found its peace

will the waves become still and cease to exist

Not until the sun comes out from its hiding

will what once were the puddles of rain start vanishing

We humans are like them, we have some similarities

we exist today and play ball or hang out with our best friends

We humans, too, will reach a certain point where

no one would even know we've been here or there

The future will come and people will replace us

like the tears, the waves, the leaves or the rain

New memories will be made and new photos, developed

and the ones we had would be in an envelope far away

It would be like we exist for now, and made the most of it

because the music's so good and the party was lit

And a day will come where it would be, without a doubt

like we didn't, and trust me, it's not a sad thing to think about

#writing #literature #word dump #spilled thoughts #martini writes #poetry #this has existed way too long already

Schrödinger's People.

They are everyone you face and encounter on a daily basis. They are to be, and not to be, until you've seen for yourself everything they are capable of. Although one lifetime is never really enough to know a person from the inside and out.

They hold numerous jars while simultaneously being Pandora to everyone else. Their hearts contain gifts and inconveniences that no man will ever have hands large enough to gather it all; even palms cupped together will not withstand the entirety that is one human, eventually it will still overflow.

Whether they are dead or alive is not the question this time around. The black and white areas of this universe have long mashed together into a vague yet dominant gray; splattering paint against the blank canvas. The world has long turned its back against the camps of yes and no, only presenting a wide battlefield of maybe for everyone to get lost in, and find themselves at the same time.

These attractions also house wonders that are not meant for the public, like the never-ending joy of being in Disneyland; laughing until you collapse in tears, creating a memory that will forever remain vivid in your minds as time passes on. And the fluttering feeling of falling in love when you pass the tunnel, or the names you engrave in each lock until it takes up the entire wall. These are wonders that a select few may only ever see, a number that only the master of the park has the rights to list down.

#martini writes #mw #literature #writing #word dump #poetry #prose #musings