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Myself Includedoh, if I had secrets to spill, I would whisper them into your pockets and the seams of your clothes and you could keep them there for a short forever unknowing, until stitches come undone and the holes in your favorite shirt begin to whisper endlessly about love and how incredibly scared of it we've all become.Myself Included
by ~krisxcore
yes, but not quite...(answers to all your questions.) I want so badly to cut open my heart and let all the contents fall on to the page and to watch, while everyone tries to sort through my grimy mess. I want them to find something profound and different, something they haven't thought of or haven't seen, and I want them to dance and laugh and cry, I want them to fucking cry because they hated themselves in the summer air and it was too hot and too sticky to think and too far to reach someone else and not enough to touch them. I want them to find themselves in my confuyes, but not quite...
by ~krisxcore
not yetmy hands may not be the best container for a heart, i can see my fingers someday clenching too tight and puncturing an atrium or holding on too loosely, and watching it slip onto the dirty ground during a rainstorm when i'm running too fast to get inside, more worried about my comfort than your safety, and even if i picked it up really fast and brushed the gravel from your veins i don't think it would be enough to fix it.not yet
but there's still a chance that my hands would be able to manage something so delicate without breaking...
by ~krisxcore
Favourites
2669-BIn the early hours, when he is still asleep, she begins counting the tiny black and white tiles plastered to the ceiling of their flat. Some are chipped, some are covered by a layer of dust, and some are not tiles at all, but cockroaches in disguise. By 143 he has stretched his arms and kissed her neck, by 206 he has tied his shoes and lit a cigarette, and by 262 he's always gone. She knows that the smell of coffee will dissipate by 329 and that if she can bother getting out of bed to call her worried mom for once, or even just go to the damn bathroom, he will be back by 2338.2669-B
If she counts slowly.
--
So
by ~Dibujando
1:48I'll admit for normalcy.1:48
I'll float like a
whisper at one: forty eight dime paved roads;
a line of
quarters in the sand of a sea of pennies reflect harsh light
by ~Dirty-Paint
Bad PoetryDear --,Bad Poetry
I began your letter at the stop sign on Third Street and lost it in a traffic jam on Hemming Way; you would've rolled your eyes at the name, so I tried to imagine you sitting beside me. That's what did it, of course--I had a perfectly good sentence and it went right out the window
with sentiment.
See there--I was trying to redeem myself by writing a poem, but apologetic prose doesn't like to share. I had grand illusions--something about a word o
by `GeneratingHype
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Spokane
- Interests: music, writing, photography
- Favourite movie: Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind
- Favourite band or musician: Death Cab For Cutie, Jenny Lewis, Owen, Damien Rice, Band of Horses
- Favourite genre of music: whatever
- Favourite artist: Kurt Halsey, joy Ang
- Favourite poet or writer: ee cummings, ginsberg, kerouac, plath, eliot
- Operating System: mac
- MP3 player of choice: ipod
- AIM: creepupandteiime
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please fix. <3
You've got a refreshing writing style.
(and Eternal Sunshine =
I really like your style, it's kind of what mine aspires to be when it grows up.
(and mine hasn't grown up yet.)
--
---
[link] - Blog
[link] - Photos and Poetry
--
a. crow cowboy candycane ghost(hh)
I hope see her show some day.
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