November 2009
3 posts
1 tag
Attachment issues I have it bothers me sometimes like when I’m trying to detach from the point of attachment; it’s not that easy.
October 2009
8 posts
“I wonder if any of them can tell from just looking at me that all I am is the...”
– Elizabeth Wurtzel (via thoughtsdetained)
“If you’ve ever had one of those times when you’ve clutched a pen or something...”
– (via sublimessy) (via umyeah) (via mitesoro) (via cowgirlblues) (via finallyseeing) (via beautyintherain)
Anxiety stops when collecting becomes persistent given a way-to-do to sublimate reality it seems so damn easy picking apart the details in form and function the evolutionary ties that bind humanity to a single something devised pick it apart pick it apart this is what I do. Overanalyze the means and reasons behind historic lies I fathom interweave into congruent groups—categories that I...
Breathing never works, not for me.
Next time, try calling my name a few more times, chant it, solicit lies. Tell me my dog died. Do something. Wake me up, I’m not dead, I’m not sleeping; I’m alive.
Now particularly, in a non-descriptive mood my head throbs and pulsates from a lack of sleep. I get wary sometimes.
And do this thing where I palm the noise in the back of my head because situations tend to get messy, people reckless and the proceeding events not to my liking, so I do this to maintain my sanity not because I’m mean or obnoxious, but because I don’t want to hurt...
“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you...”
– Stephen King | via piscesinpurple (via julie911) (via quote-book)
Like if the blind could see, they’d be more aware of loose threads and angry glances of parched folks and single faces. Of madmen and shamed students like the ones that walk around with their hands tied behind their back, imprisoned—no. But ostracized from humanity they walk like the dead do matter.
September 2009
23 posts
Mistakes. A slip of tongue. A sigh too much or a sigh too little. An overused underused hair partition. You stammer and sink into your own world. A lack of oxygen, maybe. Or just a discombobulation of misused words and phrases that always always presents itself in the undertow. Or as I like to call it, The I Don’t Know.
“You buy things and you keep them clean. You take care of them. Keep them in a...”
– I Wrote This For You
The I-cant’s are offensive to both me and you. Like the I-can’t ride a bike or the I-can’t see the board. Like the I-can’t sing a song or the I-can’t dance with you because I-can’t figure out the forms to the motions of a swing-step or a side-step to a twirl, a dip, or a lunge. I-can’t control this, and I-can’t control that because I-can’t...
“The poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople— it’s no use...”
– “Thanks to this one, I am now in a committed relationship with this ee cummings piece. I think about it at night, sneak glances of it on line during the day - stalked as a crush on Facebook. Study and fondle it in a surreal tumble (no pun intended) of recognition and admiration.
Read it -...
“You can’t relate to other people, so you fill your life with stuff. I’m just...”
– Ghost World (via filmquotes) (via unicornology) (via apologies)
I’m exactly the same. I think left and right about the ins and outs of notions and motions like when I touch with my right arm or better yet my intentional-unintentional glance of a fingertip that sends you crawling in the other direction.
Take-two my peripheral view I’m lit and I pace as you listen to the music of a man who feels for a living. The solid ground is wet. I think...
I can only bleed here because out there is like a mosh pit of irrational and oftentimes impulsive zoo animals bonding breaking biting never satisfied until a full octet and even then they climb hearts and destroy cages—I don’t really know why. It’s like they’re always angry the zoo keeper he’s never there so they throw tantrums and tampons and always they bleed, bleed...
The one with the pen who writes about herself because she can’t seem to explain the difference between this girl or that or her words don’t seem to correlate to her thoughts walled in by emotion or lack thereof. Sometimes, she really has nothing to say like completely unrelated talks about boyfriends and relationships. What’s that like anyway? She doesn’t know. She...
“Tom:
People don’t realize this, but loneliness is underrated.”
– (500) Days of Summer
Too much of the time he spends on problem-solving, adding up numbers, taking apart binaries, formulating solutions to computer jargon only he knows. Like for instance, when he asks a kid what she’s feeling after being heartbroken. He’d give you the square root of 432977, stop, snap back, and reapply the knowledge of a function to supply the means to an answer. So he calculates,...
Things I Don't Understand And Definitely Am Not...
thingsidontunderstandand:
They just sat there and picked at the french fries on their plates and pretended that they were talking on their cell phones to people we could not see.
I'll tell you what happened that day: we brushed...
You stand like your lost, like you feel the need to feel needed, so you create some space between us and pretend you’re busy taking half-assed sips from that 20 oz. cup of melted ice. You think I didn’t notice? I did; I drank all the cola.
Someone so unmalleable. She’s a synonym for stubborn, hindered, closeted, crazed, delinquent, depressed, oppressed, and vain.
“I purchased a very beautiful photo frame about a year or so ago. It is round,...”
– Nasreen Akhtar (via Ordinary Girl’s Ordinary Blog)
“You have to wait for the someone who sees you, and I mean really, truly sees...”
– (via unicornology) (via srsly) (via sleephead) (via apologies)
That feeling that’s unrehearsed because it was meant to be, like when words seem to type and articulate themselves on paper.
It’s that awkward moment of silence, that cliche. That waiting that waits in elevators while you afix and reafix that lid on top of your coffee cup and you realize, it’s still full to the brim. But you already knew that before you stepped in didn’t you? So you scratch your head because you’ve saved that spot for this occassion, and you lean on one leg while you rest your...