Its moments like these when I miss you the most. I’m dragging my feet on the pavement and my chest’s been gutted open. My insecure, unsure, perfectionist nature on display for all to see. You were always there with band aids and disenfectant for the wound. I left a part of my idenity with you. But you don’t even know that, do you? I want to be sure. I want to be perfect. I wanna write all day with this song on repeat. I wanna run. Find you, beg for you to have me.

To be honest, I don’t know what the fuck I want. And I’m not sure I ever will.

I feel unsettled. There’s a stirring, a brewing in my soul making my skin feel like its crawling and peeling at the same time. My heart palpitates in an unfamiliar rhythm, its a sure sign there is something coming. Something on it’s way to knock me off my feet. I’m a stranger in my own head, unable to recognize truth from lies, real from fake. I’ve made up so many things in my mind I’m not sure what’s me and what’s from the dream. Help me rediscover. I want to find myself and get lost in a commitment to you. I became grey along the way and I have a feeling I can find color in your kisses. Color me with love. Color me with you.

It’s something we say as we watch people walk away.  Not something we mean, though sometimes we convince ourselves we do.  

I’m happy for you, the love I never knew.  I’m happy you have someone who makes you smile the smile I could never garner from you.  If you want me to, I can be happy for you. Inside I’ve lied to myself, to my heart by telling it to stay away.

I’ve injured my soul by pretending I know what is the right thing.  By running from the the thing I wanted the most, by coloring between the lines, always playing by the rules.  I’ve been burned before.  I stay away from hot things.  I’ve only burnt myself this time. 

You have walked away into the arms of another.  

“I’m happy for you” is all I can say.

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http://boywandering.tumblr.com/post/17447495209

(Source: aquietjoy, via aquietjoy)

burningmuse:

Staff note: Ouchies! 7th line down..<3 some great truths here i feel.

wildflowerveins:

yes, we like the taste of death that wavers

somewhere between our throat and our lungs

and we like the way smoke curls around

in that deep space in our stomach and makes us feel

dizzy and alive and awake and slightly french vogue

but cigarettes are cancer sticks and our lungs become

blackened chunks of meat after forty years of inhale/exhale.

we like it because we’re bored and love to lick danger,

to let it burn our tongues and cut our palms.

i guess we’re all a bit suicidal after all.

maybe writing much more like learning to a play new instrument or learning a new sport. ive just realized that the more im writing, the more im thinking and the more im think the more inspiration comes. maybe i just have to practice and then i’ll be able to write more. 

inspiration comes quickly when the heart beat starts fading. i quickly latch onto this means of expression to keep me afloat, something to prove im still here. that i havent faded away with the pain that seeping from my pores. out of despair i find words and thoughts on the more poetic side of things to be as plentiful as pollen in the spring time. 

but im well now. im mostly healed and yet i find that expressing the joy i have back in my life to be a task much like cleaning the toilet with a toothbrush. it’s tedious and it drags on and sometimes it’s even a little disgusting. i hear the words i write in my head and they sound jumbled. hell, they even looked jumbled.

sometimes i just feel like asking, “am i even making any sense?” because i am happy. no, i am joyful. i have my friends and my family and my sanity. and im not isolating or miserable. im not closed off and hateful and lashing out. i am well. 

and that’s great. 

but i am also wordless most days unless tragedy has struck. or love. but ive sworn off love. 

Its like playing with fire. The match is in my hand and I can see the burning before it even starts. The heat already making me nervous. I’m getting the burn gel ready and I haven’t even been injured. But history repeats itself and I know the things I do all too well. You’re tempting. Like the fire. The danger and the chase allures me more than anything else. I can taste you on my tongue already. The imagination far too compelling to turn off. Dreams and danger and anticipation are my fall backs. Old habits die hard and dying to them doesn’t seem like such a bad idea

It was an illusion. That much is certain. I knew it. It’s not new information. And yet when you appear again it’s like a rising from the dead. Like lazurus coming out of the tomb. You slithered back in like the snake that you are. And im blindsided. Filled with your poison. Kryptonite. It makes me crazy. I feel crazy with confusion and hurt. I hurt still. I had decieved myself into believing that i was okay finally. But forgetting someone like you is not healing. I want healing. That’s what it boils down to. And as long as i keep believing that pushing you to the back of my brain is healing then i’m always going to be dysfunctional. Denial is a powerful thing. Somehow i denied you and forgot. A memory comes rising to the surface. Anger follows suit. It’s not over for me. That’s the painful part because it obviously is for you.

benarnoldo:

Here, I thought there were no flaws, I just thought this bitch had claws. But, fire in and ashes out, we’ve all seen love and had our doubts. Filling up a hollow tree with ‘i love you’s and memories, I forgot to forget you forgot about me. So I finished hoping and found that coping was all about the finer things. Smelling roses, not potpourri. Mostly, though, it’s about birds and bees. Start listening to the greater good, start perking up and talking hood, shedding the baggage I knew I could and forcing more than I thought I would.



I’ll stop laying idle and thinking about you, now.

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ ANYTHING BY BEN YOU NEED TO . 

this guys is amazing… CHECK HIM OUT!!

benarnoldo:

If I covered myself with garbage, I’d be flawless, too. Too bad it isn’t the things we say that replace the things we do. Like being sat in front of a television just to watch commercials, my brain has melted to the point of becoming universal. Mind, body, and spirit collide into kaleidoscopes, messianic views that relinquish all our hopes. The trash that is my apathy is slowly taking over what used to be my life long dreams to be wise when I was older. It’s a good thing that it numbs us when it takes away our fear, I say us because I can’t stand to be the only person here. I am falling all to pieces and not a single person cares if my being overrated has me climbing endless stairs to dress to impress and caress the baby’s bottom-the goose that laid the golden egg is dead and long forgotten. I’m crying now inside my head, just not where you can see it. If I said that I was already dead, you’d say that wasn’t decent.



But cut up or down or knocked over or Bobby Brown’ed, we’ve got to get back up and stare that motherfucker in the face. Stab apathy with a knife made of grace, and tie up the bastard with some satin and some lace. Make a pretty show of the lies and cheats and gambles so that mom and dad and sisters desist with their long and damning rambles.



I’m just an asshole with a sense of low self-worth, but I’m realizing at a steady pace that being lazy hurts.



Everybody.



And I love everybody.

good god. it’s like you’re inside my head. 

so much love for this piece