Morning Would

It’s funny how I fall asleep so hungry for you I feel as though a hundred tacit fingers are teasing and pulling me apart until my body surrenders and becomes a cavern for the unspoken and illicit. Yet when I wake up in the morning, my body feels lithe and stretched, as though you fed me in my dreams, leaving me satisfied and filled so that I almost forget that I even wanted for anything at all. And then the day wears on and my toes curl and my neck cranes and my fingers wander and I am left panting and starving for you again while my lids flutter in anticipation of the night.

Something about you has stolen me away... coaxed me out of my window and into the lonely fog to dance beneath the moon; and now there is only you.

no phone, can't stop writing

I spoke too much
Of feelings and such
It burned to keep it in.

It burned to think
This too would sink
Once I first touched your skin.

When we first kissed
A serpent hissed
I killed it with a glance.

You killed the time
With pain sublime
We never had a chance.

Like Only Home Can Feel

I used to rummage and scour, dig crater like holes, all in high hopes. Kicked up moon dust brighter than the sun, red paint on my hands like a surgeon smearing parts, legs ajar. Fingers crossed, intently decided on understanding you. I used to want to crawl up beside you, burrow myself a permanent, pressed securely next to you. And for a woman who sees so little, I was becoming adept to the art that is you. Held against your ribcage, nuzzled safe, like only home can feel. I listened earnestly. Heard Hendrix and jazz mad sorts of eclectic jams, words, wars and wisdom. Delighted to be webbed in your abysmal labyrinth, thought our mass countered one another; I used think you mattered. 

I pledge

to make today a better day than yesterday

this one always gives the best advice

"Your problem is that although you are subservient, which is my favorite thing about you, you need to stick up for yourself. You aren't a loser, you know."


true wordz of wizdom

surprising

that I don't even really care that I don't have a phone
you know when your phone dies, and you don't have to deal with it, and it's kinda nice?
it's like that... but not, cause it's missing
that's my fault though
what I get I guess for wildin out,
trying to de-stress and whatnot
I guess that's what I got in losing it,
a huge relief of stress:
constantly lurking
constantly anticipating, no more
but I'm curious...
if I like not having a phone because I don't waste time on stupid shit
but more importantly
because anyone who actually gives a shit about me
will find a way to get a hold of me,
and I don't have to deal with people who don't actually give two fucks
(been dealing with too many of these people recently)
(why yes, I am realizing the numbers of such mentioned efforts are staggeringly low)
but I wonder,
if enjoying this signifies maturity,
detachment, and independence?
or does it really just exemplify
how depressed I actually am?
either way,
not knowing, being numb
is very nice


I'll just pretend I'm having imaginary conversations with people who read my blog (as if they exist). hello, friend. thank you for noticing me, and listening to my bullshit ramblings