February 2011
2 posts
Cold bones.
The heat emanates from beneath my skin,
Invisibly coiling into the atmosphere.
It is a double helix. A spring,
Carrying codes of warmth.
It escapes the confinement of my body.
Chattering teeth,
Vibrations echoing through my chest.
This is all that is left.
January 2011
36 posts
5 tags
“For ‘being’ is abstraction, as is even ‘the I’. Only I am not abstraction alone:...”
– Max Stirner (Submitted by psionic)
4 tags
for the curious souls
www.wickedteen-age.tumblr.com
hristos:
wlate: thom yorke hearing damage
You still bring Thursday up.
As if it is some type of accomplishment, or as if we should be proud — Even though we got caught. You talk about it loosely, and sometimes forget it was forbidden. I have to remind you.
The truth is I still feel guilty. I still feel a little tinge of shame, and it rests there on the crook of my neck. What happened shouldn’t have happened.
I am the sort to dwell on things,...
There are many of us. We are all the same.
“Don’t let them see you cry,
When the dam breaks down and the city’s...”
– Manchester Orchestra
"I thought the blanket was bigger than this, I...
My hands grasped the folds of dark blue. I attempted to lift it upward, and splay it down upon the green. It scrunched into an inconvenient pile. His chuckles mocked me. It was playful. It was happy. It wasn’t meant to embarrass. I giggled along.
He and I grasped the folds of dark blue. We lifted it upward, and let it settle down upon the grass into a neat square of soft fabric....
A lot of the time I think either one of them are...
She can smile. Laughter, silliness, it flows for her. It may be an act, it may be an effort, but at least she tries.
I am a pessimist. My frowns degrade my features. I rarely joke, my immaturity can only be provoked by a certain few. I prefer to take things seriously, to think before I talk. My life could be mistaken as a board game. I ignore the dice. There are techniques. I plan a move...
The colored hues,
The fleshy Earth.
Reflections shot,
Smokey grays,
Cut by diagonal opaques.
Irises float,
Smiles pearly boats.
Murk,
Your digits grasp me.
Murk,
Hallucination trap me.
Plastic, never dying.
Scattered fragments,
Cutting into soles.
Footprints left to soak.
Irises float,
Smiles pearly boats.
Murk,
Your digits grasp me.
Murk,
Hallucination trap me.
A...
he colored hues,
The fleshy Earth.
Reflections shot,
Smokey grays,
Cut by diagonal opaques.
Irises float,
Smiles pearly boats.
Murk,
Your digits grasp me.
Murk,
Hallucination trap me.
Plastic, never dying.
Scattered fragments,
Cutting into soles.
Footprints left to soak.
Irises float,
Smiles pearly boats.
Murk,
Your digits grasp me.
Murk,
Hallucination trap me.
A chilling world in...
"You are pathetic for showing your emotions."
No. I refuse, with every minuscule fiber, to believe that lie any longer. Emotions are what dictate my body, they are what distinguish me from the degrading corpses six feet under. That and.. I can still breathe.
My little brother, of age seven, toddled to my door. His knocks were shy, his voice innocent and high and announcing the arrival of something from the mail. A letter, for me. I...
And on my mind past events,
A breath echoed hallow.
Wind between teeth, blowing shallow.
With open eyes I gaze upon a passion,
Slipping through my fingers without control.
As if a ribbon, silky shine,
A moonlight silver to the eye,
Could capture thy soul,
And cage it with sweet intentions.
"Thats how you feel?"
And so she lied there, listening to some bonus Radiohead track she fell in love with the moment she heard it. She lied there and questioned her whole being, her whole reason of breathing. She questioned life and its purpose, and the credibility of the game. She questioned the purpose of time and the relevance of keeping track of it. She pondered the idea of night and day blending together in a...
Am I the only one that sees today is like yesterday, and the day after will be like the day before? Because hours and minutes string together to create days and days to months, months to years. All these categories of time are set to disrupt the seamless expanse of nothing we indulge ourselves in. They are used to pull back the fear of what we really are: We are existing in a limbo controlled not...