you bleed like a fountain when the tides aim for saltwater sky & all you want to do is drown- i wonder how long it'll take for you to stop writing like that. once upon a time, you were blue train tracks rolling down cigarette addiction and soft metaphors. your mother had no way of… Continue reading sludge
i love her. she doesn’t love me.
I know not many of you will agree with me, but I am strongly against the burying of a dictator in a place reserved for those who have served the country well. But I'm sitting here in front a desktop monitor typing my thoughts. I'm not outside. I'm not screaming at the top of my lungs and holding a placard that expresses my disgust toward this secretive funeral in one witty phrase. But I wish to be. Why can't I do it?
Instead, be like the skeletal system and keep her head high. Be the framework for her strength yet let her walk by herself.
let them grow on you like a palm tree in sand, unsteady at first but firm as time passes