Some people leave you
like metal-
cold & hard.
Some leave you
splintered & useless-
like wood chips.
Let's count paces for
each of the times we fucked up,
turn & shoot each other's hearts out.
Today I break my inhibitions
& say a word I never let myself say:
Goodbye.
staggering and struggling by eloquence-fair, literature
Literature
staggering and struggling
01.
yesterday, i wrote
your name on a slip of paper
and folded it into an origami star.
it hangs on my bonsai tree
(little trees for big
wishes) as a just-in-case hope
for those times when it feels like
absolutely nothing
can make me
happy.
sometimes, when even stars
and little trees aren't
enough to make me happy, i cut
down the paper stars and pretend
that it is a meteorite shower in my
bedroom, but sometimes that
just makes it worse
because i realize
that shooting stars are actually
falling stars;
we are all just stars that have
forgotten the happy-thoughts that
made us fly,
it's just that some of us are blaz
You told me to write about you, i couldn't think of the words to say
"I had so many thoughts but I couldn't get it down on paper"
I cant describe you in just one little poem, cant let people understand you and how perfect you are.
"No one compares to you, oh no, but you'll never see that."
You always say your not the one for me,
"But deep down, I know you are"
Cant get it though your head. I feel beautiful with you.
"Like nothing ever before, I can't describe it too you."
Wish i could let you now what you mean to me
"But the words can't pass from me to you"
Every time i try to get the words out,
"I choke up and look like a fool"
Wish you coul
Here’s to all those rude awakenings
those things we swore we’d never do but did anyway
those silently deafening times and deafeningly silent times
and every decibel in between.
Here’s to the nights we thought we were lost
the nights we really were lost
and the nights we had nothing more to lose.
Here’s to us spinning our heads in knots
over unanswerable questions like why we existed
and whether this life was all we had.
Here’s to when we realized dreams can be caught
if you only have the courage to chase them
and sometimes when you let yourself fall
you discover how unbreakable you are
how unbreakable you alway
I have a theory.
My theory is that when you die, as your life flashes before your eyes and your body puts up its last pitiful fight for life before shutting down, you realize what your purpose was, and that's when you know who you truly are.
It's not exactly testable, which means professional scientists wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, but I think in my condition a little baseless theory ain't the worst I could do.
I'm 25 years old and dying.
I'm going young, I know. I can't begin to tell you how many people are disappointed that I'm clocking out early. Can't say I wanted it is this way. If I could go back in time and prevent the a
I sometimes wish you were small—
so small you could sail this little model ship
into the clouds and never have
to look at a bowl full of put-out cigarettes again,
or make those oh-so-obvious
black paper hearts that you tear
down the center only to
band-aid back together
when I assure you, once again,
that you’re not worthless.
Remember the license plate you had
on that old blue car—
the one that said DANCE?
I wish you’d do that again;
I wish you’d do it in the middle of that abandoned attic
with its weathered beams and emptiness
like we did as children, without shame
or purpose.
You once said that everywher
I used to dream that I had
candles growing out of my head,
protruding like a cluster
of white horns, eternally lit,
dribbling wax masking my face.
I would wake—sweating, panting—
in the night and tiptoe outside,
clutching a matchbox
as if it were a holy book,
where one by one
I would scorch my fingers black
and whisper your name—
each flame across my skin
accompanied by
your image,
your scent,
your voice
telling me to stop hiding,
please, for the love of God,
stop hiding.
Feed me to the wolves tonight.
Burnt flesh clinging to my bones.
Skin peeling off my body.
The smell floating in the air.
Is this the end tonight.
Feed me to the wolves tonight.
Smoke arising from my body
Stomach split open.
Screams of pain echoing in space.
I think there is nothing left.
Feed me to the wolves tonight
Bleeding out all over the soft white snow.
Breathes rising in the cold air.
The soft wings beating the wind.
I am finally letting go.
Feed me to the wolves tonight.
Everything is broken down already.
I can no longer walk.
The lights start to fade.
This is the end.
My mind disconnects when stars are revealed at night
And millions and millions of planets, so distant and bright
And for us to be told we’re alone in the universe is a lie
There must be another species, that’s something we can’t deny
But some of us, with curiosity filling our minds
Investigates these stars, these planets
Hoping to find something hidden, something new for mankind
But some even fear, that which lies hidden is our end
But I do not know what to believe
They could bring peace, or tragedy
Though, from what we’ve seen, they are their own worst enemy
From these self-proclaimed “human beings&rd