the cold seeping through your blanket at seven in the morning
woken up by your mom’s screaming
cup of coffee, toast
songs about fleeting youth
quite kind of love for some people
that’s enough to burn your insides
..hazy morning light coming through the window
illuminating the empty kitchen you now sit in
..the air never seemed to be this clean,…. breathe.
a rush of life to your lungs
mixing in with your sadness
too weary body
eyes, a little too bloodshut
all at the same time.
of feeling and hearing everything all at once.
“and i don’t know what the trouble was that started all of this.”
…and for a fraction of a moment you are spirited back to your younger self.
then it fades a away.
the wonder, gone.
give me back my soul.
shards of broken glass
on the floor
but in rare moments of
fleeting sunlight and haze
a glimpse of who she was you see
..no, she wouldn’t want your love
only your soul.
the trees were moving the stars were speaking to me
and told endless stories i touched them; i felt nothing
my fingers yearned for the skies, i now feel it surrounding me
sufjan stevens was playing but then the tempo got slower and slower and it was this incomprehensible beautiful mess and fuck the music’s getting heavier and and heavier and the buzz is kicking in and holy fuck i am in space i what the fuck am i even typing i meant for this to be nice n pretty n shit but its just trippy instead i cannot stop typing when is this gonna wear out. it is slow and heavy i feel numb i feel nothing my mind is blank except for this music. i feel very intensely but i can tune things out, think of things that has happened happening as separate entities.
///you seem just like a hazy memory i know you’re still there but i dont seem to care now, you are here but i cannot feel you, i did not want to. this is euphoria this is beauty and filth and anguish and misanthropy this is what kids kill for this is us being youngandstupid recklessandpassionate ; full of life.
i feel distant more from myself actually. the other day i saw this girl she had her heart whole and pure and she wasn’t mad she hasnt lost anything she was running free in the world but now she weeps because all that was left of her was this blackhole in her chest it swallows everything up and takes it all up to put away at the back of everything she used to hold dear she aches because she cannot come back ”stay for a whille. just this once.” … “i cannot, i have to figure out what is wrong with me”
i feel a void in my soul. the insides of me are nothing but light and darkness and rag dolls and broken players and repressed lust and tears.. bitter tears. i try to hold them back i try to.
my hands are tainted with all of the people I havebrushed them against with.///
that afternoon. afterclass and it was raining my feet are wet i saw you and you said little. that was 3 years ago. it felt like 2 days ago. i am trapped. i cant seem to wash it off.
take me back……………….this world is turning cruel and im getting older i feel my heart getting colder and it dreams of days in the summer where it is easy going and free and we rode our bicycles the wind touches our cheeks and leaves us memories of having been 5 years old and feeling the world is huge and hated nap time wanted simple things. summer days are nice/ but they last too short/ i look back on those days. my soul is broken. tea cups., coffee stains. your side of the mattress and the warmth it used to have. don’t fucking tell me you know me who i really am when i dont even know myself so now you see my poor attempt of making sense of everything i’ve known. the window panes and sun coming in to try and illuminate this white room that is nothing but a box of nothingness. I AM HIGH BUT I AM STILL EMPTY AND SAD, WELL FUCK. i dont feel miserable now, but rather content even. content with my sadness. i’ll always have it i guess. others do not feel my sadness or know of the things i get sad about they do not know how it felt the first time i felt that i was slipping away and both happy and sad and the feeling i got when i had to hold back my tears.
i am suspended and my sanity is hanging by a thread and morrisey is playing he can be my friend because he hates everyone too but then makes songs about it, songs that leave you all mixed up. i am in love with my own misery. a world in gray slate and forced smiles cheap happiness medication words we do not even understand . ///she looked at the grey horizon infront of her and wondered if this is all there is to see, but the she said “how come i wish for something that i have never seen”
what is it like being you he asked. **looks at him directly in the eye lights a cigarette blows the smoke off —depends on what medication”
all that is left of me is this vague impression of having lived and the dark cloud is starting to envelop me now.
There is so much I want to say and scream out
if only I could find
the right words.
It’s this intangible mess inside my head.
Gripping my heart.
Wrenching my soul.
To write better
and live better.
Think more profoundly.
I wish that I could.
To not hurt as much.
All the ways that I am not.
I wish.. that I could be.
I took my old stuff
looked through them
and read what I used to write.
I lit a match
and burned them.
Because I ached.
For it reminded me so much
of how I used to be
young naive and hopeful.
When I ached I thought I hated
who I was.
No it wasn’t that,
i just grew older tore my heart open and hated who I had become.
And for some reason, I couldn’t take everything back.
I set it on fire.
Ashes and smoke
and hazy memories
of things long past was all that was left.
And I remember,
your battered kicks.
Or how you sometimes wear your boots with your tight jeans that show off your boxers.
And your messy hair,
like you’ve just rolled out of bed.
I know you did though, it’s late afternoon and boy what are you doing with your life?
I remember the way you wore your glasses,
and how gawky they were.
Your dirty clothes,
that fucking hoodie, how you use the hood to cover your face when you peek at me.
The way your hands fumble, over the pages of the books you read.
You liked Camus and Nietzsche, we talked about it once.
But I could tell you had an affinity with Holden Caulfield.
Don’t you dare say otherwise.
How you sometimes have a cigarette hanging in your mouth, but you never smoke it.
You like your coffee dark,
venti fraps rarely.
The false innocence on your face.
The mischief in your bones.
How you tend to be poetic about trivial things.
Yes, you didn’t need to tell me.
You told me you had a hard time dealing with people.
You tried, but sometimes you just didn’t bother anymore.
Cause you felt they didn’t understand.
But I did.
For sure as hell I did.
You had these eyes,
that spoke of nothing and of everything at the same time.
You knew how it felt to be so alive and feel so dead.
You were once there,
we once were.
But where are we now.
This may or may not be about you.
This isn’t about some sappy love story.
I don’t know,
it’s just that at one point there you were.
You were so real and so fragile and so beautiful it scares me sometimes.
I’m writing this because I want to remember.
I don’t care if you stumble upon this, or that you probably never will.
I meant everything.
And I haven’t forgotten.
As I try to make sense of everything that’s going on in my life.
Can’t seem to go with the pace.
Feels as if I’m here, and my life is there, or someplace else.
And I’m watching it pass by.
Like two separate entities I have no control over.
I try and grasp it. I try and I try and I try.
And I’m getting tired and I’m scared and I’m not so sure why.
I used to have it all figured out.
And I can’t find the right words,
I guess that’s how it is when you have these gaps for what you feel.
It doesn’t make sense.
It’s just for today, I swore to myself.