Runner Up to Last

I just want to hold hands and spoon the stars into the sky

[fruitsaladchewits-deactivated20]

[beskt]

[kidmograph]

GOLD CITY

[timinginandout]

Epilogue

I don't think I could ever write a book. I would be too concerned with assuring the reader that despite the perils of the plot construct, it will all work out in the end. Because it will, and if I could write about rest and the morning after before the crickets go to sleep, then I would. I just want you to know that after the end there is a life longer than any of its problems. It is not something that will sell, but if you deserve to know anything, I just want you to know that.

[factly]

[factly]

via weheartit

[timinginandout]

An Introvert Searches for Meaning

I don't understand why my father Always leaves our front door Open Every night. I'm an optimistic person Every usual day And I know usually It's probably okay Because it's a nice neighborhood, That's why the doors lock. And if the doors lock Then why not right? There has to be a point somewhere, And I trust that there is Because nice neighborhoods Have good doors And good doors lock. They close properly so why not? Why have a door If you're going to keep it open? I wonder if he has ever thought About it that way. There has to be a point somewhere. I mean, I always shut it Just in case. And I mean, He always keeps it open, Just in case. I wonder what he sees out there.

[timinginandout]

I Want to Walk Out of This Alive

I hate missing the people that you leave, Because you love them Even though they suck. It’s agony to Get gum in your hair And not be brave enough To cut it out, The slow jagged motions of the comb And cringing for what? It’s the same shit, Just smoothed away For the time being Until it’s too heavy to ignore And you pick at your hair To avoid scratching The skull and realizing more than it can hide. Care about the hair Lest the barber shears Rear to reap the harvest Sharp nails have planted in the brain. What hands are sunk Into the strands Braiding back the memories? Not mine but Mother liked her bows, Bubble gum pink And the distance doesn’t mean shit If the guilt still follows In missed calls And short texts. I wonder if they know I am not home, Hope against hope They will let go So I can wash myself Clean of this sticky feeling. My hair is dying, Splitting at the ends And I like it this way. I love it.

[sotick]

[gonna-be-luminous]

[ithelpstodream]

[timinginandout]

You Undress Me

Her bra was lace And innocently flirtatious, Assuming not too much but Just enough for me to bite My bottom lip. Bait, And my hand Hovered in between her shoulder blades In frame with the singularity Of the lasting expanse of my longing. I was caught in the filigree. The part of fabric; Red Sea, And the path to precious lands These desires yearned to sink into. I sought To explore her In every stitch, To unravel from loose ends And forget This need for protection But the zipper stopped, And the moment is caught Still between my fingers. I can’t let go.

[sheerox]

[depressed-youngins-deactivated2]

[notinthemaps]

Open all your windows, let the sunshine in and put on your comfiest clothes and start throwing away everything you don’t need anymore. Pile up the clothes you haven’t worn in months and donate them. Do the same with books, jewelry, shoes, blankets, furniture, etc. Vacuum, make your bed, turn on your favorite tunes and sing them loudly. Drink lots of water in between verses and make yourself a nice lunch. Enjoy every bite. Buy a new shirt or piece of art online. It’ll give you something to look forward to this week but remind yourself there are a lot of things to look forward to. We live in a world where there are still mountains that haven’t been climbed, parts of the ocean that haven’t been discovered and there are lakes and rivers and animals that are evolving. And so are you. You’re going to be okay.

[timinginandout]

Naps are for Nice Days

Naps are for nice days When the clouds are plush cotton, The sun is a warm blanket, And the breeze brushing Through the curtains is a soothing melody. Soft weather deserves some peace Because good memories Do not come of good moments, Moments to remember are made by us, And we all deserve some rest.

[leila-khaled]

[afterthenight]

La Jetée (1962)