By personone on Wednesday, January 25th, 2012

i write sparsely but i’m always thinking abundantly. my pure thoughts lose to impure actions. where the only life i seem to live is one of regret and shame. with all my sins laid out bare,  i contemplate what all humans think, and express them in the words that we’re all thinking. i’m not really good at first impressions, and i’m bound to leave you with a bitter aftertaste. because you see, she fell in love with the words he wrote and didn’t know until later that she hated the way he spoke. he wrote like a poet, a gentleman and cursed like a sailor and portrayed himself like a misogynist. yet, over and over, she would forgive him because she saw the full spectrum of the human condition in his eyes. the loneliness, the joy, the sorrow, the shame, the pity, the ecstasy. she would explore all facets of existing vicariously through his musings. the apathy dissolved into activity. he never spoke in the riddles of his rhymes, so no one ever dared guess what went through his mind, lest they assume the impossible; his mystery is what captivated them and as long as he held onto their curiosity… they would never find out about his psychosis, as well as his aversion towards reality.

By personone on Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

wewritewespeak:

hello, they call me socially awkward. my names are vain and lies. i live on the corner of deceit and shame. my silver tongue pushes words at the speed of verb, often littered with half-truths crafted at temperatures below reality. sometimes they call me disappointment, because i can never deliver. gifting the world with a symphony of stars, all of which fall to the ground in a crash of octaves. in celestial reminiscence i dispense my lyrical reverence, to spread my progeny amongst the fallen. preaching hypocritical lessons of shedding the skin of disappointment, i am what i preach to avoid. it’s a red letter day for retribution, a chance at a trip into infinity. your window of opportunity grows smaller as the size of the window they look at you through shrinks. in padded rooms, dressed in long sleeved jackets, where your food is pushed through a slot; everyone is insane but you. we aren’t so different, you and i.

By personone on Thursday, January 5th, 2012

the guys want their girls to be the baddest out there. the girls want their guys to be the classiest out there. we’re filled with the desires of our lives and the greatest of them are our expectations for those we find ourselves in relationships. we tell ourselves things like: oh, i want my girl this tall, this skinny, with hair this long and colored just in this shade, i want her contacts to make her eyes this color and her facial features this way. i want her eyes to be this big and her make up to look like this. her curves have to fit mine and her fingers slender and nails always nice. she has to dress like this. only then will i love her for the rest of my life and when we get old she wont be as attractive in the physical, but i’ll love her because i’m shallow and loved her when she was. it all works out because she thought in the same exact way i did when she was looking for me.