Today was the first day i slept in our bed, alone.
I still consider that bed ours,
despite you not ever coming back to reclaim it.

Remember, my heart is still yours,
but my mind keeps it on a leash,
because the way we were living,
we were like animals.

And before i can release my heart,
i need to let it heal,
and time is the only medication,
that can stitch a broken organ.

I remember those moments when my friend and spent 2 weeks house hopping. We spent our days and nights at parties. Jumping from house to house. And when the parties ran out for the evening, we would find the closest friend’s house to spend the night at. I miss those nights. Walking from house to house, no vehicles, no drama, no trouble, so many drugs, and talks that still lay in my memories, arising when I miss her the most.

matthewpasquarello:

she came into the
room and fire
followed her, the
heat was tremendous
we shielded our eyes
spilled our drinks
rubbed our eyes against
the current of the
heatwave bouncing off
the walls and
ceiling and floor and
knocking over the
chairs

you could tell she
fucked like a demon
with the face of an
angel and the body of
something out of an
art history class

she burned us alive

As i talked to a friend today,
one that, in my mind, has no face,
i held my tongue as i tried to say,
“i want to quicken your heart’s pace.”

And now that your name,
no longer residing on my screen,
left a me in silence and shame,
I’ve come to see the scene.

I was looking for you in the burning echoes
of these cigarettes.
I was searching for your body,
in the holes in this skin.
I found you in an empty corner of a crowded room,
searching for someone,
as I was searching for you.

rakuli:

                                                  If I
                                            could  just
                                          lose a bit  of
                               weight,  gain  some
                  more it would great. Nose
           is a little long, it is too short
           it is wrong. I  want      my
           teeth  to  be  whiter,
           I want my teeth  to be
           less bright. I would just     love
          to be a touch taller and I can not
         wait until I am smaller. I want to be
       where it is warmer,     I want a constant
       winter to perform     in. I want more affection,
       to be left alone      for introspection. The world
      is full of imperfection, nothing near  me  needs a
      correction. I am the only one that cares,      I am
      the only one  not  in  despair.  It  seems             I
      have a lot of needs that     are impossible              to
       meet. For all that I can      complain  not
        a   single   thing   will         change unless
         I take a step myself           to start earning
         my own wealth for                the grass is so
            much greener                     and the air is so much
         cleaner on the other side of where I am sitting now.  

This was originally written
with fountain pen—curséd sink leaking
cursive ink. Something about floods
frustrates storms under the skull. No one
gave the writer an advisory warning.

The letters have been straightened
to hide the passiō of poïesis. No one will
guess this. Instead of building an ark, he
writes how his humanity drowns for your viewing
pleasure. At least silence your phones.

Hello darkness, my old friend I’ve come to talk with you again.