forgiveness.Emptiness is a petty feeling, an accompanied feeling, not a lonely or longing one at all. Nothing is unfamiliar or frightening, just comfort in the known. A predictable glimpse, loss of eye contact to the past, to a photograph or to a memory. A close memory to my heart, a memory that causes slight cringes when experienced, yet the urge to do so overwhelms my senses, just a minute away. The thought of afterlife is present in my dreams and images of family burst across my eyelids. I am an example of living decay in the winter times, an example of seasonal illness. Seclusion in memories is all I ask for, to be left behind in the foregforgiveness.
Little Girl.A little girl will always feel lost in a pair of dirty oversized ballet shoes.Little Girl.
With oven grease on her face, hands covered in blisters from the monkey bars.
Tiny holes hidden in her folded elbows. A little girl with a craving for butterfly kisses from the woman on the moon.
A little girl turned the age of a book In grandmas attic, a collection of fictional short stories A little girl with bruises on her back and thighs Lost in the confines of a well knitted basket.
The gathering of things from small to large Smelling the gym floor The licking of hands afterwards
you are the only one.Being a child has nothing to do with hollow, nothing to do with skipping ropes and hopscotch. The snow covered the ground, leaving toes sticking out to brave the cold without a brace or glimpse of sun light for miles across the slanted horizon. I lay awake in bed and think to myself about being a child, a full child. With blister scars on my palms from the monkey bars, I have painted my nails the colors of a little girl. Tried to put all these dresses over my head, and hide inside my closet that now has grown buttons for eyes and lacks left over sweat pants to cover my tears. The old familiar feeling of winter creeping into my shoulders, whicyou are the only one.
overpass.The sores on my tongue are beginning to fade And the smile of the sunlight is grazing my balcony doors The cold of fall is slipping closer and closer to my vitals The false heating can slowly defrost the surround areas, and do its job. I can sit in this chair and watch the windows around me begin to fog.overpass.
The busses I ride and the grand canyons of light that divide The trains and the people, the rails and run aways Useless from functional, Tide from rise. Boiling points and freezing advantages All cling onto my lobes to keep hold of the last bit of lingering and committed cold.
Stockholm Syndrome + Self-HelpBAD FEELINGS sucking up all the good energy shot into the atmosphere by massive consumption- the high of that new kill a.k.a that new buy, has got you jumpin' for joy jimmy boy and the pills oh the pills are dancing in yr bloodstream real niceStockholm Syndrome + Self-Help
no it's not you dear capitalism, even if you raped the world i heard she was beggin for it anyway someone said that god said she should take it and be quiet you said she was yelling real good though-- "MANIFEST DESTINY!"
NO it's not you, it is me me me me that
UntitledMisery sleeps alone yet again among the live and undead My mind clouded by false statements Though my judgment is unfair i still believe that they have got the best of me My hatred demands action Action of which are wise or un-thought of but they must see how i see A vision of the truth which has been until now obscured With the past memories fogged and little time left to discover what i came here for As if it were buried beneath anesthetic my trait of discernment is overpowered With unwelcoming consequences of pain and sorrow which has been kept in the shadows for an eternity Shadows cloUntitled
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The Edge...there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. -Hunter S. Thompson
Because i want to see people and i want to see life...'
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I wont be afraid, I'll stand by you, and I will understand you ♥
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" Ultimately, neither my motives nor my actions are of any consequence: they are both well known to the things that whisper in the highest room of an old town. They know what I write and why I am writing it. "
- Thomas Ligotti
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I wont be afraid, I'll stand by you, and I will understand you ♥
good poem.
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" Ultimately, neither my motives nor my actions are of any consequence: they are both well known to the things that whisper in the highest room of an old town. They know what I write and why I am writing it. "
- Thomas Ligotti
well done.
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I wont be afraid, I'll stand by you, and I will understand you ♥
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" Ultimately, neither my motives nor my actions are of any consequence: they are both well known to the things that whisper in the highest room of an old town. They know what I write and why I am writing it. "
- Thomas Ligotti
You've actually inspired me alot ^_^
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I wont be afraid, I'll stand by you, and I will understand you ♥
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now begone!!
proud member of the ~Fair-Weather-Gang
btw, I applaud people who watch scraps
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" Ultimately, neither my motives nor my actions are of any consequence: they are both well known to the things that whisper in the highest room of an old town. They know what I write and why I am writing it. "
- Thomas Ligotti
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