The Words Of A Sag

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[tscrimson]

Made a new place to hide away. Here are all of the things in my brain. A beautiful and disgusting place. Let this be a place where future historians come to contemplate the existence of a soul.

[usergambit]

THE X-MEN + TAROT insp.

[usergambit]

X-MEN '97 2:09 - Survival of the Fittest

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

a bird came down the walk (1891) - emily dickinson

"a bird came down the walk - he bit me ow"

[tscrimson]

Have to get up at like 7 to walk dog and then be outside of Napier for THREE hours tomorrow 🫩

[tscrimson]

🎵Your cars still parked outside my window🎶

WRONG

Fuck it, I’m not rewriting the song

[tscrimson]

If I were a boy, and now I am a man, why do I feel lighter and more innocent than I did when I was young?

If I’ve gone full circle, is that all there is? Am I doomed to always be some strange mix of the people I’ve already been, or is it a worse fate to know that I could become someone I do not recognize and will wish to not be anymore?

If I am a man, why am I still afraid of the dark, my own shadow, grocery stores, and banks?

If I’m a boy still, why do I feel like time is running out, like I’m past my prime, and like I need to get my will together?

Is this what they call life? The miserable joy of owning and losing, finding, maintaining, destroying, and protecting?

I crave to be the best or the worst; every fiber of my being is set aflame at the thought of doing my best and not being as good as I’d like. I will rule the world or burn it down. My earth spins because it gives me a reason to write, cry, and create. I tell myself that because if I don’t, the world spins so quickly that I may fly off. The poles of my brain are bent and mangled beyond comprehension, and I call it modern art.

Thoughts are nothing more than fleeting memories of a future with no certainty. My thoughts will come and go at the touch of love, the singing of birds, the life I’ve created, thrust forcefully into the base of my skull until my skull is so full of some sort of poetic metaphor for blood that it cannot do anything else.

[tscrimson]

I’m doing the best that I can/I need my best to be better

[roguediaries]

just finished s2. i need a cigarette

[planetphoebe]

a true dc comics fan will always speak ill of dc comics

[thoughtkick]

“Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.”

— Muriel Rukeyser

[tscrimson]

From coast to coast, I am hunted and haunted by ghosts

My only hope is that the turn of the turbine and the speed of my sorrow can drown my regrets in the heavy clouds above us, just longing to be broken through, but there are no clouds in Los Angeles, nowhere for holy beings to hide in the city of angels.

I am further from home than I’ve ever been and somehow I feel quite alright.

I’m coming “home”, tired but in new ways. I like this coast, it’s terrifying in all the right ways. If evil is going to get me, it will not be in the shape of someone I once loved. I have always been a runt, the smallest in the class, standing on my tip toes, now here I am, shrunk down and standing in the shadows of giant cities, finally accepting the insignificance in my size and shape.

I’m leaving my baggage across the west in hopes the plane flies faster and on a wish that someone finds it and disposes the aged and bitter sweet gloom and whine that fills my life.

[tscrimson]

[paper-wounds]

[tscrimson]

Overhead everything and falling through Orlando skies, with Florida sunrise passing by, for better or worse, I can only feel connected to one head on the ground below. Of every roof and every person unaware of my dissent, distance, and altitude, I can’t help but wonder. Something no one wants to hear and even fewer people want to feel.

[tscrimson]

All the way from 205 to Route 66, I am your catch-22 and dying to be your Gambit ‘97 with aces and eights run from skull to sole, from sole to soul. 2 hours until Orlando and 4 and a half until somewhere else.

A better man wouldn’t be so dramatic, and a worse man wouldn’t have gone. But here I am, terminally at the terminal, waiting for wings and wishing for whatever may come.

[tscrimson]

Wish me luck or wish me dead, either way, throw something down because the bottom of the well gets only after a while.