Below my feet

Out the Blue.

I squandered my resistance,

for what? I don’t remember.

Fleeting pleasures, I reckon.

At the hands of strangers,

seeking acceptance from the ragged people

Cause the fine ones,

come with fine prints I can’t read.

The harder i squint the blurrier it gets.

I can feel it, something is off.

ahh,

I just wanna find peace.

It’s been too foreign to me,

buried below my feet.

I will dig them out, and sift the oddity

we will be whole, eventually.

I promise.

Getting lost

Looking for something, not sure what it is.

Lately, I have been feeling like I need to get lost in something. You know the kinda feeling where you are just lost in the motion and don’t feel anything around you but the presence of just being.

Like eyes closed, dancing to your favorite song in the dark. Not caring if the motions are weird, you are just lost in the music!

Like that, everyday!

Does that make sense?🤔

Let see if getting lost in a book will do the trick 💭

Dead eyes

Oh to have lived!

Can’t you see, we are nothing

Life is fleeting,

Right before your dead eyes.

Won’t you wake up?!

Spring has sprung, the flowers are pretty again.

Even harsh waves still makes an exquisite picture.

Speak to me

You are barely living

Tell me you want more

This too shall pass, I promise.

Hold on to what you believed, just like you told me.

Remember when we lived life

The feeling of youthful bliss, cascading.

This sadness is a chore, my friend

there are holes in all of us,

but we must carry on.

I wanna stand here and whisper

As I should.

Go that way,

I will take the long way down

I will find my way around.

I saw a glimpse and I don’t like what I see,

The dissonance is draining, so

Am going back in, into myself

Basking in my solitude, sublime!

It takes a while to come back out,

So don’t hold your breath.

If i was a writer, i would write tragedies!

“This world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those that feel.”

Horace Walpole

In a dark room with surround sound music, playing alternative/indie music. Sitting in your favorite spot, relaxed, eyes closed and a little tipsy.

Peace/Torture

Why?

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” Oscar Wilde

Was it because I stood up to the man in the mirror,

I thought it get better from there.

Was it because I stop listening to the voices,

it was unfriendly.

Was it because I started smiling,

sadness is a chore.

 

Tell me why, I deserve to know

or do you just miss sipping from the cup of broken me?

Why take it away?

Now Piper does of babel,

and you fucking ibis’s take note!