……this shit streak of bad luck can end at any time now.
I have a life I want to fucking live.
grey bloom, tusk eyes
half and twice
three flights up, then the basement
sings (skips), trips, teeth chip
iron taste of gravity
the stream (cracked lips)
for figures, four figures
that’s two split in two
two hands in every room
four numbers, or three
one four means transfer through the city
the fourth, corroded strums (second)
you have one of those where you seek rest, it ticks.
grey bloom, blue eyes
flowers in a chandelier, greet with marble
three numbers in the corner of life
“be on time, the bus is at 6:45
get a slip and don’t ask why”.
three figures, four six times a day
sapphire bloom, singing eyes
breathing patterns, the pines from a sigh
three basements, then a figureless moon.
”it is time”.
(Source: arikhaldan, via anewbeatfromadeadheart)
I don’t feel like me
whatever that’s supposed to mean
I’m a different person every time I come home.
I have spent the last three weeks paralyzed in my bedsheets.
forcing myself from sleep, work, returning home, chain smoking and compulsively clicking through my playlist in hopes of finding the right chord, chorus, or harmony to aid in the process of coping with the finality laid before me. Repeating the words I’ve given to others and been fortunate enough to hear when I needed them, to myself.
“this will pass”
“everything is temporary”
grasping for a pen to put to a page. “Writing always helps”.
Pen to paper, paralyzed fingers.
the pages stay blank
this used to be enough to cope successfully.
somewhere between Oakland and home, I lost my mind.
broke every rule I ever had set.
watched my composure collapse on the 61B arriving downtown.
looking at every clock in the manner a hammer would look at nails.
every park bench as a jail cell.
logic. horrible, mundane, and unforgiving logic.
the cruel truth I’m forced to accept.
the incarnation of a lost dream.
tossed by time.
miles away from anyone who can be of comfort.
feeling too scared to ask for a shoulder to cry on.
feeling too proud to admit that I’ve broken in half.
“who’s there to talk to that won’t lock me up?”
“What was I doing? What was I an asshole? I was in love and I JUST met this person. I hated her ideas cause they were critical of me, but I loved her anyway.”
it’s been a bit since I’ve posted anything here.
which is more than likely good.
I feeling solid about living here. I’ve felt pretty stellar about a lot of things in my life actually.
People are, for the most part, pretty friendly.
The loneliness of not having my friends back home at my convenience, has at least been filled with higher attention to goals and focuses on oneself.
The handful of friends I have/have made in Pittsburgh thus far are absolutely wonderful people. Intelligent, compassionate, sharp witted, and caring people.
Heike and Hatchet are, without a doubt, the most wonderful friends I could ask for. It’s ridiculously awesome to have them as neighbors. It’s the best to have had them for years in my life.
the best word to describe existence right now, for the most part: quiet.
peace and quiet.
more aware, less distrustful, and living more openly.
saying what I mean and understanding what I say.
It’s a feeling that, for awhile, felt foreign to me.
I welcome it.
on a small street, stepping out with quiet feet.
I believe in a world free of excessive desire
a world filled with compassion and sensitivity
not senseless murder, hate and material obsession
one life that condescends upon the importance of possession
(Source: aleksandrakobylowska, via afoolsluxury)