That’s how long I have been without you in my life. How long an essential piece of me has been missing and irreplaceable. I have been able to stop dreaming of you in the nights but the days, throughout the days you linger and sometimes haunt me. I recreate the memories over and over again, knowing that each and every time I do so, I forget a detail. I forgot the moment within the memory. I lose another part of myself and another piece of you. I want all the scars and I want all the love-made rug burns. I want the tear stained shirts and rain drenched hoodies. I want the smoke filled hot boxed cars and the backseat clumsy instances.
I want to keep all that we had and just forget you. I miss the happiness and the love. My god, a love of that kind, that caliber could have made me believe in God. But now I know for certain and that makes it so much worse.
I can’t collapse onto my bed without wishing it was like before, with you beneath the fluffy covers of your sheets and pillows. Lying naked and exposed for me. Eager for me as I was for you. So trusting and so dear.
You would have sacrificed so much for me back then..and I knew it, but I wish you didn’t.
The days that pass without significance are a gift and a curse. Thankful I made it through another without my pathetic aged desires overcoming my will and wretched internally for having wasted another set of stars and moons.
When the winter comes I will be cold and alone again. Not lonely or longing like before you shared your life with me but cold and alone, like harsh abandonment and chilled quiet suffering.
I love you recklessly and honestly.
Your sun kissed face and hazel emerald tinted eyes. The way your neck and chest aroused would flush pink intensity. The sweetness of your voice when you laughed and spoke to me. The creativity you intuitively dispersed and that playful elegant soul.
I don’t wish you were here because I know how much you’d despise the life I’ve let myself grow accustom to, yet there is a sad ironic comfort in knowing I am the right man for you now, that I sought out to be back then when it actually mattered to you, and to me.
Each chance I have.
No, my death and silence will be reward.
I’m nostalgic for a place to share my love and a person to call my home.
I need to sit and concentrate
Yet I can’t hesitate
I gotta wait a minute
And I gotta contemplate
How God’s got a billion minutes
And though she never shows
I’m the one who’s running late
So it’s time to create
No daylight to save my fate
No delight for those that hate
No more wake and bake for grandmas sake
I gotta make a ton of moves
Like a tunnel moves
I gotta take make stake
Freedom to escape
It’s built on energy and discipline
A little bit of synergy and oxygen
It’s gonna save your spirit and your kin
And that’s worth it in the end
Unless you like to vegetate
Eat your vegetables and meditate
Exercise the physical and mental state
Prepare and don’t procrastinate
Cause the militaries coming with that police state
They’ve got a release date
They’re gonna drop it like a date rape drug
Because they’re government thugs
They aren’t your momma with the hugs
They’re your daddy with the slugs
Uppercut to the lungs
Cut the breath and your blood
Sacrifice for who you love
Commercial lives sever ties
Advertise full of lies
False flags that blind the eyes
Dull minds that can’t realize
The control on our kind
…to be continued
Quiet the mind.
Seek to understand, not of knowledge, but of Truth.
In the silence you will hear the solution, clear and coherent.
I wish I could remember the first night I was actually capable of falling asleep without you.
I wonder why I keep a half glass of water on my night stand and a bottle of bourbon as well.
I want to know how easy it was for you to leave me after three years for someone you knew for two months.
I will kill myself long before I admit I still love you and expect you here like the morning sun gives me another new day.
I wasted all the best years of my youth on a girl who behaved like a neurotic child when it was about who I spoke to.
I weighed my worth in the love you showed me but I would have liked for someone to tell me I was blind.
I wait for as long as it takes, and I have been in a state of being an almost always broken apart person, that these days, I now am so shattered it is my sleeping nature to piece myself back together.Again. Again. And again.
I use to do some pretty crazy stuff when I was younger, mostly with my high school sweet heart. One of the craziest though must have been when we were in her bed kissing under the covers and when we came up for air I said “I love you” and she replied “I love you too.”
You’re the kind of girl I’d give up something I’ve done a long time before just to see your for a short while. I’d give up a passion and in return you’d take away the madness that follows. I’d know happiness and serenity because you would share your secret thoughts with me. And I think I would have hands that envied my eyes when we get stuck in a crowd and I would want to be alone with you
..I’m always with this hope that I’d share a part of myself with you that would make you think twice before deciding to go to sleep. Like maybe my next word to you or the next kiss planted on your lips would shake your core and make you quiver. I wish to know what that life could be.
Your smile radiates transformative properties comparable to a dying sun going supernova which has the chance to renew its cycle and begin again, bringing new energy and life and warmth to the coldness of the universe. Sadly, this, the most powerful display that nature can provide pales dimly when set against your smile. I could experience a sun implode and explode releasing its vibrancy of colors across the entire visible spectrum and it’s supersonic vibrations that could shatter me infinitely. Yet, it all seems so utterly dull when compared to your smile.
I hope no one ever loves you like you’re anything else but extraordinary.
Perhaps in another life we were childhood friends. Catching up and sharing a drink at 3am on a cozy summer porch with the stars watching over us. And now, I have that glass in an empty bar in my small town, waiting for iridescent eyes such as yours to show the other half of this split soul. Waiting for a trail that can lead back to that previous and long ago moonless night, so quite possibly I can be reconnected. Do I just recall a foolish daydream romance from the recesses of my mind?
Or is there ancient meaning behind the recognition I find in your familiarity? Is there absolving hope, that if you saw an absence in my eyes filled by your reflection, you would stay just a short while to see if in return I restored something missing from you? And if what is said is true, and the eyes are the windows to the soul, I wish to build the house that you reside in with my two hands …from the ground up ..an old love could grow again and new.
Even before this life I’m sure I preferred whiskey with the sight of your eyes.
Words vanish from the palette of my tongue when I dare to describe your earthly form. Just as the sky loses it’s colors at nightfall, I feel striped bare of all articulation. Days and days pass on without function attaining fruition so I may attempt, though futile it will seem, to solidify thoughts with this intangible language that could not entirely convey your grace to all those unknowing. Nevertheless I will continue to write, for I believe that a glimpse even by imagination is all others would need to know that a certain type of heaven can and does so exist, embodied by you.
It’s been a while, and I cannot dilute my daydreams enough to forget the symmetry of your face and when the nightfalls I am haunted by the inescapable fact, that I do not know who you are. I dream to know the subtleties of your expressions and the happiness you project from a sweet surprise, to be so intimate that you are not guarded with me and can openly share your anxieties and troubles. I wish to be your comfort in this world. I want to be the one that stands by your side if you may falter.
This will be the sixth time I have been able to gather my composure to write words with purpose and with the passion you have unknowingly given to me. I know if I make it out to that island you will be the first and only sight I would want to see and only person I would wish to speak with. I would want to thank you in person for helping me find my “voice” again. The sentences and their structure seem to form all at once when inspired by your spirit. To have a chance to know your presence, leaves me utterly drunk with hopeful desire. Would my approach turn you away? Perhaps the reality of the situation? Nevertheless, I know that all the pain of possible rejection would significantly outweigh the potential for a lifetime regret of passing up the opportunity to meet you, to know you. I do not want us to be like those ships passing in the night.
When my eyes are heavy and the days of self inflicted sleep deprivation truly start to unravel me, I can completely displace myself in dangerous illusion. In the fantasy of being at your side, sharing simple gestures, fingers tracing and tickling skin, a breath on the neck, a bite on your inner thigh perhaps, and soft whispers of all that I want to give to you, all I want to learn from you. I know this is more provocative than usual, must be the blood moon, late nights my dear & beautiful muse.
Words cannot describe how I feel..
It is best to live a short life, full and with meaning, than a long life, empty and void.
They want us afraid and quiet.I will not comply.
Exercise your will to change the illusion.Know thyself.
Honestly, my ideal life would be to go wanderlustin’ across the planet with a work weeks worth of clothing, prepared for summer and winter weathers, carrying a yoga mat for some easy going morning stretches, a sleeping bag built for uno but cozy enough for a counterpart, (maybe a mini tent as well and a bicycle) my dad’s acoustic guitar I grew up strumming and singing with too. Traveling so freely, being able to drink cleansing water from streams and bathe in serene lakes and meditate in gentle moving rivers, enjoying 85% of my daily nutrition consistently consisting of fruits and vegetables, to have three types of books on my person: fiction for imagination, philosophy for soul and historical accounts for perspective. To live day by day, ready for the next week, not considering anything but what sky I may be sleeping under in a month and not counting the years as if they were just revolving cycles consuming my youth, or etchings into my belt and wrinkles and lines on my face as another ring forms inside the bark of an aging tree. However I got this obnoxious worrying void that’s an endless pit of despair and troublesome anxiety which is eating away at all my self proclaiming purpose. I cannot dream about it leaving or write enough vague examples of my inner treachery or smoke it out with an infinite amount of Louis XIV or fuck enough moaning women to help me forget it like another one of my long lost love letters. I live so crippled that the good days and the bad ones have a blurring borderline less present than a mirage or an omnipresent invisible god. And I just wish that I could find the will to brave a new direction, to discover a reasoning that compels the rekindling of desires so strong that there is nothing other than for me to do, but leave my old life behind, and begin again.