existance is on a thin thread, the part where the thread has been tugged so much its changed its shape; the thread that is something whole but the thread gets thinner and thinner everytime you close your eyes and by the 50th second thread breaks and thread is no longer whole again but thread is still hanging in there still reaching for more and thread still has a long length which goes on forever
lets hope thread can connect its threads
We were 1
Together we made 2
I felt 3
But you felt 4
So you said 5
And then you met 6
But 6 brought out the 7 in you
But you said I 8 you so much
It hurt 9 times more then you said 10
11 days thats how much time past
On the 12th day you kissed
The last 13 lives you had.
Its ben 14 days since the last 15
I spent 16 of them with 17
On the 18th day I
Said goodbye to 19
25 I remember that was the day of my birthday
I spent the last 24 alone
But this one was different
I had 26 people in
All of the 27 rooms I owned
28 of them are in my head
29 was just like you
except less dead.
So what do we say.
What do we do.
The same thing we always do push and believe.
Its been a long time and things have been getting hard; youve been shot time and time again and the wounds get worst.
Deeper and deeper but what is worst is that its been the same bullet everytime and its only shot you once but it like a million at once.
But the bullet will go through and just like you, your wound will heal not matter how hard it seems now it will be okay
The bullet was one of those gold ones, the special ones with the narrow head and slender build
The bullet was beautiful and it implord into figments of particles and so you will you one day
Youll say that everything you’ve been through was beautiful and eveything is already is.
So please beautiful bullet wound me and go through me and heal within me.
Man up. Sure it’s easy to say it but, is it really easy to do it? Man up meaning get the fuck off your ass and face your damn fears. Or in simple terms do everything you won’t be to do in your normal state. I say I could do. I can.
Well I think so but. The root cause of this won’t go away anytime soon. It makes me mad and upset
I don’t want to think about
But it’s always in my damn way
Peace and calm is the only way to walk through it
Well I find myself always running always wanting to get out of it damn
This will be the dumbest one yet. But you are in for a treat. Rememeber that time where I spent 3 or more hours doing random shit. Not really but it was. You. Me. A room. With another person but that doesnt matter at all.
I have to admit I was scared at first then I was fine then I got all in my feelings.
But it was you
I don’t want to think about you.
Theres no point so
This is the most pointless and dumest one yet.
In order to reinvent yourself you must do one thing, strip yourself of what you used to be; there needs to be space for the new. Say your farewells because you kiss a person that you will not go back to. Not ever. Build up someone different; save yourself by killing yourself; bleed the memories of the old so the new scabs cleanse you of all things tragic.
everything that we thought was true, wasn’t a lie but it was hindered; so it wasn’t entirely the truth and it wasn’t entirely a lie. i remember he told me that the first time we heard the echoes of the bats in the caves, or was it the time we danced until we were numb?i’m sure it happened. he said that we like everyone else in the world were the center of the entire universe just like if you drew a spot on a balloon and blew into it the spot’s position seems like it’s changing but its just expanding. until someone pops the balloon. that would be funny. that’s what he did. then i screamed because those balloons are so so scary just like the bats were, just like the music was. he looked at me the echoes of the universe creeping into the moment but some how the look that i got pushed it way . it as nice. so.nice the weirdest thing is that it didn’t happen.
Like all things, this was the beginning.
He was off to endeavour into the pits of hell. Grabbing his boots just underneath the large pile of mess in his room where he spent most of his time blubbering about how much life sucked for him. In a way, the mess in the room was like the mess in his head, something that never went away; something he had no control over. Slipping on his boots and grabbing his large navy blue coat, he walked towards the door, the light illuminating through the glass. Lost in thought, he began to turn the handle of the door, barely touching the cold steel knob. He opened the door, all that was seen was fire. The world that was once his own was destroyed. He looked up and stared at the cloudless sky, taking each step cautiously not wanting to go near another life form.
He began to pick up pace. Glancing at his watch he could not help but mumble to himself “Ten past two.” Talking to himself had become more and more of a habit.
The worst weeks will come,
More of you will go,
The worst week will hit you
hit you like a punch on a wall
The wall doing much damage
The worst week will cut you open
The same way you ripped the wrapping paper of your christmas present
The paper doing much damage
This worst week is what you will
When you felt nothing
The week will come
make you feel empty
The week will go
Just like you will go eventually
But the week goes instantly
Where as you choose your length to come