Jealousy can destroy friendships...well any relationships for that matter...
Focusing On Me"I had enough of being crossed by people. From this day forth I will be focusing on me."
I Care Too Much"The biggest mistake I have ever made is caring too much about others. At the end of the day, I always end up having my heart shoved back in my face..."
Keep Moving and Move On"Don't allow one negative experience stop you from enjoying and embracing positive experiences.
Life happens...things happen...trials jumps in the way of our path.
Never let it stop you.
Learn from them and move on."
Voice"Sometimes I have to isolate myself in order to silence my mind.
My inner voice is louder then my outer voice."
Behind A Mask"Everyone hides behind a mask.
Do not believe what you see online.
At the end of the day we all have flaws we want to hide.
So the question is...
What are you trying to hide?"
Take Time"I have my moments where it feels like I am stuck in time.
I have to remind myself that it is better to take my mind then to rush life."
Nothing To Say"Sometimes I simply have nothing to say.
So I do not talk.
So don't ask me why I am not speaking.
I have nothing to say."
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.
With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?
Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.
When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?
The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.
Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who kno
tutorialtake an evening -
reclassify emotions as chemical compounds.
remove one atom,
see what changes.
take your field notes, transcribe them
back to front.
add line breaks.
be scientific. be too scientific.
replace the word 'entropy'
with the word 'god'.
be so full of want that you can feel it
scraping its numb jaws against your insides.
write about flowers instead.
make your first line provocative.
follow it, let it unfurl -
inauthentic, try again.
who the fuck
read, find inspiration.
find new ways to plagiarize old ideas.
hash and rehash,
slash and burn.
look at the mess you've made.
spend an hour flicking back and forth -
write about family. if it hurts too little,
write about flowers instead.
use a word bank.
write in the dark.
write from within your own skull.
write your litanies.
write your lines.
I re-create my world
from what the moon has left hidden,
soft motes and shafts of twilight,
tucked away in the shadows of night.
They spin like tendrils,
silver wisps that trace outlines
of city streets and skylines,
and spatter their traces over the paths
that greet my feet in the morning
and wake the world anew.
They grow warm and feral
starting in golden buds,
threading their way through fields
and blooming in a riot of horizon
that yields up its bounty
and gifts the waiting world.
They make songs from scattered words
and music that clatters from clouds,
caught humming on the wings of starlings.
They paint pictures with faces
and colors that bloom from landscapes -
all captured in the days lazy palette,
swelling the world in bee sung glory
where the sun crests its orbit
and carves out the new day
pyromania.I tasted your lips sideways,
and they were lit like
but in reality,
your breath simply hovered
above the bowl,
and you smiled at me
as you lost control.
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
a true want, to have sex with her, and
The breasts she has, they gain
stares from men passing by, tripping
over themselves to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex? when will a man
see her as someone he may spend his
Her hips curve, and she doesnt
want your hands on them, if your
just going to touch her skin.
She wants a man to touch her soul,
not just touch her skin, and run his fingers
where they do not belong.
What made these men think, she
is just a sex object, a toy that could be
put on display, and taken whenever they
Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
Proud she is though, that she hasnt
given in, hasnt