I am one of the lucky few who is blessed to have a way with words. A carefree manner to deal with the beauty they bestow upon our tongues; upon my tongue. I’m a young, free-spirited individual. One who merely understands the way letters come together and can affect one so viciously. People misinterpret my intentions, and it may cause a negative perception and may even stir up mixed emotions. But that’s where words come in. They roll, seducing flicks rendering flaunt to our desires. Words crash upon our chest and arms and tower over our fragile bodies, engrave sentiments solely for our sake and then… they die. Words die. Crumpled up little balls of paper, thrown into disposables; trash bins. There are words, however, who are hurdled through recycling bins, to be played as pure forms and truth. No one understands the importance we must hold towards the power and meaning of words. Jumbled up, true, wild, foreign, lustful, hurtful- they feel as you do, they turn as our backs do, stand as we sit and fly as we sink. Words are a part of us; a part of you. These said words, are a part of me.
I’m young but I want to be older. I’m independent but I depend on others. I’m insecure but I flaunt my features. I’m a writer but I’m not famous. I’m a thinker but I’m scared to speak. I’m afraid but I hold my chin up high. They say I’m human but… I don’t want to die.
Some days I woke up and got out of bed and brushed my teeth like any normal human being; some days I woke up and lay in bed and looked at the ceiling and wondered what the hell the point was of getting out of bed and brushing my teeth like any normal human being.
and in the morning the sun will rise and I will not be yours
and the rain will come and I will not be yours
and the moon will shine upon my bare skin
and I’ll turn to him and ask him
if it was just as hard for him.
Raul Gutierrez, “Lies I’ve Told My 3 Year Old Recently”
I want to get lost in your skin, dive beneath your wounds, lick the inside of your walls, carry your sex with me over the threshold, I’m pathetic, my loneliness is cured by the taste of you, the feel of you running down my lips, tell me I’m beautiful, this will make us whole, stay with me, hold me for tonight, as I lose myself in you….
Frances Ha (via luciel0u)
I want to kiss her.
Not because I want to feel the softness of her fair lips or the warmth of her breath as she exhales against me.
I want to kiss her because I can’t think of any other way to fully express the beauty that she is. I want her to know that I see her as perfect. That she is perfect.
Stack them to the ceiling, dear!
You build libraries
You won’t forget
what stares at you
behind the doors of
your own shelves
so that you can hide
beneath what you’ve compartmentalized.
Yeah, I’ve known you to be that way.
your generic superstore
on a Sunday
I feel like
I get dirty looks
from the employees who think
my silence equals shoplifting.
I pass by a young family,
the parents say
"We’re going to
go get dinner soon!”
and the girl smiles
and claps her hands.
"I love dinner!"
"I LOVE dinner!"
I wonder if she will
grow up starving herself.
I think of the irony
And isn’t it odd
how much cleaning supplies
No wonder we’re all confused.