a kind cynic

i’m not completely sure why, but it seems as if my tastes delve further and further into darkness as i get older. perhaps it is the cruelties of the world that has jaded my hopelessly romantic disposition; perhaps it is my way of saying fuck you right back. i feel myself drawn to evil; amused and titillated. but only to a certain degree. as i feel myself drawing darkness into my soul, i also feel myself wanting to send out more light. i find myself wanting to protect the few good things out there, guard them with my life. i want to remind people that you’re supposed to be good, because i feel like everything out there is telling us it’s okay not to be. it’s a dog eat dog world. you have to kill to survive. i know that’s how it is, but we make it so. i want to tell people to look into the mirror, and then ask themselves who the real threat is. i want to tell myself to do exactly that. i don’t believe the answer is to just forget it and give and give and give. because you will get crushed out there. but don’t just take. try not to make it worse.

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small roofs

i was waiting for the bus in the rain when i got to thinking about umbrellas. that we have this thing where we suspend pieces of synthetic fabric over our heads when it rains. like small roofs. and then we just walk around, holding these roofs up to keep from getting wet. imagine an alien seeing us walking around like that. it’s strange. especially seen from above. a bunch of small roofs moving around, getting hit with thousands of small beads of water.

he: moustache, black clothes, book

i fell in love on my way home tonight. i fell in love on the train. he was sitting opposite me, reading a book. he had blond tousled hair, a moustache and black clothes, and i really wanted to ask what he was reading. he kept his eyes on the pages almost the whole trip, except for the one station where he just kept flitting his eyes back and forth. i wanted to ask what was happening. but i didn’t. because that would be weird. sometimes, he’d smile a little as he read, and i wanted to smile too. but that would be weird, so i didn’t. some pages were dog-eared, and i didn’t approve, but i thought to myself, baby i don’t care. no i didn’t. because that would be weird. he got off one station before me and i thought to myself, what if i were to go after him, tell him i just had to say something. but no. that would be weird. when i reached my own station, i let him go. or almost. first, i wrote a post about how i fell in love with him on my way home tonight, just in case. no i didn’t. that would be weird.

please please please

i don’t know. there’s just something about a smiths sing-along that just breaks your heart. something about hearing people screaming the words in the next room while you stare into your glass, beer flat and disgusting. people dancing and laughing and kissing, and you’re just there. and you feel so alone. you don’t have anyone. you don’t have someone. no one that is right there, ready to bear themself whenever you look at them. intimately, whole-heartedly, because they’re yours. and you sit there thinking why and please and why again. and there’s just something about having a smiths song playing in the next room, hearing everyone scream along when you just want to hear it alone in your bedroom. and you realize that you’ve given away your headphones for the night. and you’re so lonely. it’s devastating.

flowers

a while ago, in the midst of winter, the idea of planting a flower entered my head. as i saw everything around me dead and covered in cold, i became fixated with bringing something to life. i told myself that once spring was here, i’d create something beautiful that whispered spring. that laughed summer. one flower became three, and now i finally have my seeds planted. i’m already too attached. no really. they have names and everything. my thoughts of them are already tinted with love. i think they deserve it though – they’re the earth. the sun’s still being shy, but i hope it’ll work anyway. that the seeds will grow and bloom. you take what you get and do what you can, right?

mirror

i stood in front of the mirror, brushing my teeth, as the absence of light from the burnt out lightbulb veiled my face. i stared into my own eyes, seeing darkness and darkness only. and as i felt the weight of my own invisible stare, fear crept along the edges of my reflection. the abyss gazed back. who knew what i was when i was not to be seen? a freak. an untouchable freak. i stumbled back, a step one two three four, and scratched at the door, grappling to push it open. light streamed in, and black turned to grey. the lines reappeared, and the void was silhouetted once more. i could still feel its eyes on me. in my irises, on my neck. it lingers. still.

κινούμαι

when you feel your life going stagnant, move. hunt the change. when you can see things clearly, feet on solid plane, start running. blur the lines. never let safety graze your back, avoid its dulling touch. when you find yourself feeling that something is missing, find it. when you think to yourself, i don’t know what i’m looking for, find anyways. see conquer devour until the void is filled. make sure there is always something new amidst all the old that colors your judgement, clouds your vision. let yourself become enraptured. embrace that things are fleeting, use them until they shrivel in your arms. don’t worry, they’ll never be gone, not even eons after you’ve thrown them away. disposable permanence. be greedy, abuse your freedom, take all you can and be selfish, because the world is selfish too. everything you take, the world takes from you. so get to know each other. exchange. exchange. exchange. meet the universe, swallow it and let it become you.

watch me unravel

life is a little bit harder, but so are you. you walk with your arms stretched out, and your eyes are boiled sweets, crystalline and dense. the word “can” repeats again and again, wrapping around your brain. nothing makes sense except for you, so you make sure to touch as many things as possible. disturb. unpick. and with the threads in your hand, you walk away.

… i’ve come undone

um, hi.

you know when there’s just so much that has happened that you don’t know where to even start telling the story that’ll justify the entirety of reality? yeah, that. so let’s just not even try. let’s just pretend nothing even happened, and let the story pour out through the voice itself. so this is basically me breaking the ice. discharging the tension building in the air, the expectation of “venting”. zap, there it went.

snow

the world is blindingly bright. the ground has been bleached a starch white, attracting light magnetic. photons crashing down, ricochet into a frozen disorder. enthropy. some land in your eyes, iris and energy colliding, wave cutting pupil. like a deep gasp after breaking the icy wet surface. good morning.

january 13, 2014. 01:58 am

you’re hugging him. you’re clinging to him, letting your weight be carried. you burrow your face in his neck and breathe in his warmth. you’re pressed against him, his body soft and hard in that way that’s so distinctly male, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder. his t-shirt has just gone through the washer for the thousandth time, it smells like detergent and comfort. his hands are steady on your back, holding you close, leaving him-shaped marks deep within. your chests rise and fall, fitting against each other. rise and fall, breaths in sync. you could stand here forever.