Have a good weekend, fuckies.
___________
I will rise into the sunshine that will rule my mind
trespass onto the clouds that angels use as a thimble for their worlds.
I cannot find... you.
I cannot hear... you.
I will sink into the twilight of the stars that have so abrasively lit the irritation of my demeanor.
and I wonder... wonder.. where you are.
I do not fear this next step.
I will stare into the eyes of oblivion and find a home in the ghost of the soul that is you.
I will reach into the netherworld and bring you back.
Bring you back...
how I miss you, my dear friend, a second half to a soul that just wishes for the end of this torture.
I will delight in this next moment when I understand that this last breath is just a suffocation of a soul rising to the next level.
I will... run.... run... run...
it is impossible for me to dodge the raindrops as I run from the intimacy of two souls disgusted with the thought of happiness.
I will rise into the fantasy that seven drinks and two packs of cigarettes will be able to make tomorrow not happen.
I will... disappear into the shadows of this world in my search for you.
Elusive you.
I will dive the depths of the caves and slave over the mountains, through secret passageways with messages written from those who understood this slavery I am encaptured in. I will continue searching until the symbols on the quilts have brought me home.
Home, home to you.
I will stick out my tongue and capture the snowflakes and I will be reminded of the ashes we spread in hopes of sharing your beauty with the masses.
I will tell the story of the Phoenix to children and hope that they have seen your face.
I will break down in tears when I rise up to the clouds and they inform me that you, you are not there.
In hiding.
I cannot find the piece of you that is me so that I can find the piece of me that you have discarded in hopes of being whole again.
I feel like I am returning a sacred Christmas present for half price.
Still I will continue.
I will trudge through the slush in hopes for a beautiful spring. Perhaps I will find you in a melting snowdrift when I sit down to pretend yesterday was a dream.
I will be brokenhearted when your eyes open and you do not recognize my face.
All of this races through my mind when you make eye contact with me in a lonely crowded hallway.
____________
I sometimes wonder if I was this mean to this man:
Poor Mac...
___________
I will rise into the sunshine that will rule my mind
trespass onto the clouds that angels use as a thimble for their worlds.
I cannot find... you.
I cannot hear... you.
I will sink into the twilight of the stars that have so abrasively lit the irritation of my demeanor.
and I wonder... wonder.. where you are.
I do not fear this next step.
I will stare into the eyes of oblivion and find a home in the ghost of the soul that is you.
I will reach into the netherworld and bring you back.
Bring you back...
how I miss you, my dear friend, a second half to a soul that just wishes for the end of this torture.
I will delight in this next moment when I understand that this last breath is just a suffocation of a soul rising to the next level.
I will... run.... run... run...
it is impossible for me to dodge the raindrops as I run from the intimacy of two souls disgusted with the thought of happiness.
I will rise into the fantasy that seven drinks and two packs of cigarettes will be able to make tomorrow not happen.
I will... disappear into the shadows of this world in my search for you.
Elusive you.
I will dive the depths of the caves and slave over the mountains, through secret passageways with messages written from those who understood this slavery I am encaptured in. I will continue searching until the symbols on the quilts have brought me home.
Home, home to you.
I will stick out my tongue and capture the snowflakes and I will be reminded of the ashes we spread in hopes of sharing your beauty with the masses.
I will tell the story of the Phoenix to children and hope that they have seen your face.
I will break down in tears when I rise up to the clouds and they inform me that you, you are not there.
In hiding.
I cannot find the piece of you that is me so that I can find the piece of me that you have discarded in hopes of being whole again.
I feel like I am returning a sacred Christmas present for half price.
Still I will continue.
I will trudge through the slush in hopes for a beautiful spring. Perhaps I will find you in a melting snowdrift when I sit down to pretend yesterday was a dream.
I will be brokenhearted when your eyes open and you do not recognize my face.
All of this races through my mind when you make eye contact with me in a lonely crowded hallway.
____________
I sometimes wonder if I was this mean to this man:
Poor Mac...
VIEW 25 of 32 COMMENTS
agentofoblivion:
And you know its funny because I actually dont usually drink very often. And most of the time when I do I dont drink very much. You guys bring out the worst in me (or the best, since at least I am not a horrible drunk) especially Nalar, who has put a shot of 151 and something else I didnt know what the hell was in me. Heh.
tawanise:
thank you