Tuesday, February 16, 2010


See, the thing about falling in love platonically is that when you move on something inside you becomes frail. It seems I've been stirring for years, and each time I become exhilarated by someone's persona my heart aches from the absence of another. I want to become so much more than this, but it's the remoteness inside me that seizes to resist. You know, it's not that I need your every moment or your constant devotion, in the slightest bit, but sometimes I just inspire to be missed..

Friday, February 5, 2010

All that you love, you lose...

Chaos leaves me with goose bumps, as the arms of apprehension remain wrapped around my throat. Since I can’t distinguish myself in distant eyes, I fear I’ll continuously fall into this obscurity without being able to heave myself out. You see, my arms are so frail, and my heart is no more than a dead-beat waiting to stop. My compassion is exhaustion waiting to halt…

Thursday, January 14, 2010

It appears you're spun as well

We use to think we had finger tips, but lately we only see ourselves tippin' with our wallets on those drunken nights out- when our arms attach at the bottom, and our feet double in amount. This way, that way, we'll fall to the floor, but it doesn't make a difference. Others around us, they are, they are too indulged, indulged in the sound waves that float across the ceiling, indulged in the tongues, that never stop moving. So I'll stay on the floor, and watch the world spin until my skin melts again..

Bein' on your own can be quite romantic.

If I could land on my feet, you know, I'd be walkin' on the ceiling. Arms, legs, and limbs all flailin'. Hair stands on end, grippin' to it's roots as my face turns red and my feet turn blue. I'm walking with the spiders, I'm becoming glued, yet sometimes I still think this web isn't large enough for you...