Jenga Is a Dangerous GameOh, please don't use words like "forever" and "always".I get a little dizzy when you say them,And my careful, precarious stack of hopes could fall down at any minute.Though I don't and do wish you wouldn't,You build it up, nourish it, make it growEach time you are kind to me.Add a block for every smile.Cause my heart to fly, my soul to sing;Make me want to dance with you until the music ends...But please, don't use words like "forever".I'm falling.My tower is too tall, and I can't affordTo let it collapse on me, too.
SkyeShe was as blind and beautiful as her namesake,Ever changing and evolving with the seasons of her mind.She hid not a single emotion.She always said what she was feeling.Her face betrayed her, and she knew it not.If you needed someone to talk to, she was there.Always.Every sensation experienced showed clear;Even if you didn't want to see.Sometimes you even forgot she was there.She was calm, catastrophic, serene, stormy, heartbreaking, deep, confusing, ponderous, perfect, haunting, mysterious, amazing, inexplicable...(And, of course, always nice to look at.)
Why Fall In LoveThere are always the cynical ones,those who could really care lessAnd they say,"Why fall in love?I don't need anybody else.It's just a waste of energy and time."Why?Well, one does not ever mean to fall in love.It's a natural occurrence in all human beings.You never realize itUntil you hear them laugh andsmile at the sound.See them sad and instantly long to make it better.Feel them smile at you and want to freeze that moment forever.It's a disorder of the brain,But it feels so good;An addling of the mind,Yet it brings you so much more happiness andhopethan you've had in a long while.And even if it doesn't work out,No matter what happensYou will be happy if they are.(Right?)
banana fudgeHe was like a song I wasn't sure I liked or not yet. But I'm trying to be more open-minded about music, so today when he carefully placed my hand in his (as if he were asking permission), I smiled a little. I said, "I'll allow it. But only for today." He smiled too, only it was more like a smirk because we both knew it wasn't just for today. We were tiptoeing right along the precipice, even though the ground was about two feet down. Hey, wait. Slow down, heart. I don't know that for sure...~(Meanwhile, a few months later)~ I am positively nutty for this song. There isn't a single one like it in the world.
Forget tsunamis.Man: The world's first Natural Disaster.
*Ideas we set in inkDo not mirror reality.No matter how hard we think,Our words are not actuality.In writing, all that one can doIs wish upon an asteriskAnd hope that wish comes true.
Though few...All my nightmares are ofMe.
Dear SocietyPaint me over.With your words, your rules, your regulations;Your policies, contracts,your abominations.Suffocate me.With your lies, judgments, sins,infatuations;Your hate, your order, your secret combinations.Stifle creativity, unravel joy,Throw around common senseLike it's just a toy.Redefine our limits, standards,Color outside the lines.You are in charge, not those who designed you,So go ahead and polish 'til you shine.Once you've gone and had your fun,You'll be completely smooth.Of course, it's better for everyone,No ugly semblance of truth.It'll be just as Montag said,Nothing to bother us.Nothing to hinder us.So I'm just here to say:I'm done fighting you.I don't want to anymore.So I'm giving you permission.You can wipe me across the floor.After all, I'm just an air bubble,Standing between you and total control.I'll just sit back as you crush me,Watching society take its own toll.
Maybe I'm Not...As brilliant as Sherlock Holmes....As inspiring as Mahatma Gandhi....As beautiful as Princess Diana....As humble as Mother Theresa.But I know that I amA good, loyal, true friend.And that counts for something...Ne pas?
Broken and despisedLittle girlOnce so inocentNow broken to the coreOf her very beingHer once free mindNow trapped in a nightmareHer once pure heartShattered into tiny piecesHer once hopeful soulOverwhelmed by darkness and despairAnd no one noticesBecause she hides her scarsUnder long sleevesBecause she hides her painBehind a fake smile...
FrostbittenWinter is her favorite time of the year.It's beautiful. Silver and blue dance around with one another in a waltz of freezing passion as snow and ice douse the land in a blanket of boreal glamour. Glass windowpanes become easels for falling snowflakes, frost etching into the smooth surfaces in intricate and unique patterns.Winter has always been her favorite time of the year, and it always will be.It is not because of Christmas--no, even though she loves the holiday, it is not what sparks her strong fondness for the star-colored blanketing across the land. Her infatuation with the snow and ice and everything cold has to do with something that most people don't truly believe in.A boy.A boy whom she met long ago.She still remembers the day like it was yesterday. Running around in the forest, laughing and tasting the snowflakes as they fell down into her parted lips and melting immediately on her tongue. All bundled up as a precaution, even though the winter has always been kind to h
SoonMist.Like so many missed opportunities, the crystalline waterDances and dissipatesAgainst the wind.For a moment, I glimpse a rainbow there, shimmering faintly;Reflecting potential.I ask myself,What is at the end of my rainbow?
Simple Plan Maybe part of the problem was that every pair of slippers Oliver had ever owned were much too small for him. You see, he didn’t mean to become a criminal mastermind. It just sort of...happened. Of course, there were contributing factors, such as the bullies, the words, and the girl on the corner. Overall, though, it was a personal decision. Oliver had always been one of the kids that the rest of the class needlessly singled out and tormented. There hadn’t really been a reason (for is there ever?). The other boys got bored and found their own imperfections in somebody else. That made them much easier to laugh at. Some of the things they teased him for were things everybody did, such as tripping over his shoelace, not having his shirt tucked in, or stuttering while giving a presentation. The one thing he was ridiculed for most, though, was his name. Oliver. Is that really so horrible? Is it that terribly awful, shamefully girly?
27. FriendshipDaily exchange:Her feelings,My poetry.
MercyYou're like a fallen angelA dusty doll on the shelfYour eyes still to the ceilingCounting the secondsThe spans between the rise and fall of your chestCutting through the tortureTracing the bites on your stomach with shaking fingersCursing VenusMerciless bitchDrunk behind the gym during classSo brokenHelplessYearning and mourningNothing but a scared little boyFace pressed to the filthy bus windowWatching mommy wave goodbyeYou're a broken wine glassShattered between stiletto heelsBranded with ruby lipstick and the stick of apple wineBabe, don't try to shove your bruised knuckles in your empty pocketsBrush it offShake your blonde head and smileTell yourself that you're going to be fineNot moving a muscleDeceit in the corners of your eyesNo bend in the sides of your mouthBegging for mercy
LimboHeaven was my head laying on your lap, your fingers swimming through my hair, feeling the individual strands, hearing your murmurs of how soft it was. It was waking up the next day and you being the first thing I see, your face so serene with messy black hair in your eyes.Hell was my mind boiling in the juices of own jealousy [being not the lamb but the leper], my spiked tongue lashing out at you for a seemed wrong, for falling in the arms of another. I would have given something, anything... everything to call you mine.I knew where I once stood, where I was each time... but where am I now?
:: Fear ::Fear to love.Fear to see.What will become of me?
Only Those That ImagineMurder most foulin the tale of two citiesWith Robin Hood and Shakespearecalling out the lines.And Sherlock Holmeswith Poirotfiguring out the crime.Every book tellsa lying truth.Every book has a worldfor your exploration.In every story, true or falsethere is some one to followand every story, without a doubt,has someone to root for.Artemis Fowl and CadelKaterina too.All the thievesall the storiesall the daring rescues.Follow the kingfollow the princefollow the farm boyand the cross, little girl.Enter the gardenand smell the secret roses.Every book tellsa lying truth.Every book has a worldfor your exploration.In every story, true or falsethere is some one to followand every story, without a doubt,has someone to root for.1001 Arabian nights!Magic and djinn!Wizards, witchesSorcerers and enchantressesThe dusty booksthe flying broomsticksthe stories that we love to tell!Every book tellsa lying truth.Every book has a worldfor your exploration.In ev
Weightless I walk, and sameness weighs on me--the same gray sameness....Then I turn a new corner- And in a spark of newness,All becomes full of color, and light, and fresh air again!The weight is lifted.....
fake it till you make iti don't want to live on this planet anymore.so i'm packing a rocketship to mars(no you're not invited),where the seasons don't change andthe people forget.i can learn to forget too just give me some time.i can write an entire book on how to lose your memories,if you want.you might want to find someone elseto help you make those memories though, becausei'm the kind of person who's never seen a shooting starbut sits in the darkwhen there are meteor showers outside.i'm also the kind of person who ignores your phone callsand hides under her blanket.maybe for the same reason.step one:make a paper crane. burn it, starting with its head.the wings should be last, don't make something that can't fly.(i can't imagine being a penguin.)step two:build a wall. anywhere.maybe you can even tear it down afterwards.step three:change your favorite color from his eyes tosomething that can't hurt you- like maybegrass green or baby blanket yellow.maybe buy a n
TiredI'm tired.Tired of feeling lost, afraid, misunderstood.Tired of wondering if I'm letting someone down by the choices I've made.I'm tired.Tired of getting my feelings hurt, my ego bruised, my heart broken.Tired of showing these varmin called emotions.I'm tired.Tired of being me, of being weak.Tired of trying to be this person I cannot see.I'm tired.Tired of all the pain, all the struggle I've put upon myself.Tired of not being the person I was.I'm tired.Tired of hiding, hoping, and healing.Tired of listening, learning...letting.I'm tired...I'm tired.
tranquil thursdayrainy day. cocoa.small, warm coffee shop. a book.current status: peace.