I’ll always remember the time you came all over my chest 
then wiped it with a tissue 
But I’ll never forget how you came into my life 
made a mess 
and left me to clean up

I still had that box of tissues 
used it as an attempt to dry up a lake 
so murky and dark 
They all had myths about 
a lake monster swimming along 

I wanted to be small 
enough to hide in that box 
and play a one-man game 
of hide and seek

I wanted to hide until 
my head stopped bleeding 
shoulders stopped shaking 
my knees stopped trembling 
and my toes stopped being so cold 

I was cold 
and bitter 
and I’ve always loved my coffee 
warm and a bit sweet 

So right then 
when I ran into you 
literally ran into you 
(I was staring at a busker
who played what used to be 
our song) 
My smile was real 
I hope yours was too 

A mutual awkward high-five 
seemed the appropriate gesture 
for realizing 
that the transition from crying in the shower 
to growing a field of sunflowers
is a brutal process
and we have each other to thank. 

I’m hitting rocks, and it could very well be another bottom. But rock bottom feels different when you’ve got a net. A net, not one to save me but to make the fall kinda bouncy. Bouncy as in even though I’m face-planting the rocky carpets of a cliff, I see from time to time that the light up there is not artificial. A net I recognized as the fishnet stockings my legs loved feeling. A net used to filter the lies I tell myself from the smiles I’ve built myself.

I fear writing too many love letters would simply become those Snapple bottle cap facts. One read “If done perfectly, any Rubick’s cube combination can be solved in 17 turns.” Which reminds me to thank you. Thank you for understanding that I am not a Rubick’s cube and the colours most likely will never match up.Thank you for understanding my mismatched socks and strobe light torches. I admire how hard you work, I can never get sick of your smile. My heart giggled when you compared your love for me to the amount of zombies you’ve killed on ‘Dead Island’, and if your cock was a person, he’d give me butterflies. 

I know I’ve been walking with dark clouds, but your existence reminds me to keep walking. 

A mesh constructed by the red threads, I am grateful.

I thought maybe 
I woke up 
on the wrong side of the bed 

But I’ve rolled 
from the left side, 
And I’ve jumped 
from the right side, 
even dragged my body forward- 
still nothing. 

I thought maybe 
I could blame 
the incessant ringing
of my alarm 
or the defective snooze button-
but I was never asleep. 

Then maybe I could point 
to the awful weather, 
at the terrible skies.
But the sun was out, 
it was only gloomy inside. 

I’m afraid this train is stopping 
with no light bulb moment-
there is no electricity. 

paula-valeria:

If there is anything I do more frequently than play with myself, it’s missing signs. They’re everywhere and I miss them. Turn left. Oh, but what’s there at the right side? Straight ahead. But how about left, right, another trip around?. Perhaps that’s what I need right now. One giant sign. A big blank one to fall on me and wake me from this  comatose. I am either in a deep sleep, or this is reality. Either way, my vision is hamstrung and my senses are numb. I secretly think that the sign is written on my forehead but I’m not a huge fan of mirrors. I am miserable and I wish for oxygen to see that there is no use entering me anymore. 

To my dearest,

 I love you when you sleep,
I love you when you don’t,
I love you when you’re smiling,
I love you when you’re down.

That’s a lot of I love you, but it’s something I would never take back. 
You’re the girl who people sing songs about, and the type of girl that people work their whole lives to try to attract. The type of girl who is nice to just sit and talk too, the kind that I wouldn’t mind laying a day in bed with, while we eat ice cream and share stories with, again. The only girl who can make me happy with a simple wave and hello, and the only person who I love more than words themselves. There’s more emotions when I call your phone than over any feeling that a song or movie could bring out of me, but you’re the only one I’m more than happy to call mine.

I love you when you’re mad at me.
I love you when you’re not.
I love you my forever.
And forever we shall be.


-Nicholas

There I was, physically embodying the word ‘awkward’, as I paddle in the water with two floaters around each arm. Hope on my left, curiosity on my right. Trying to get from one place to another in the water. Swimming. Yeah, attempting to swim. Kicking my legs and propelling with my arms, learning to breathe underwater. 

That’s when I saw a mermaid. She looked almost identical; same long flowing hair, same small hands. I’d assume she weights a lot lighter. With those hollow eyes and empty heart and all. Ah, but that shiny tail glistened with depression and cynicism. So how in heaven’s name do I go about ‘drowning my demons’? I can see her right there. She’s a fucking mermaid! Gliding so quickly, so swiftly, she belongs in my ocean. The siren-like songs of hopelessness, she’s in her habitat. 

For a while I envy her. She travels the darkest parts so naturally, while I struggle to keep my eyes open underwater and stay alive. I realise that I am a part of the ocean, but I do not belong there. 

I am not afraid of the water. I get to taste the air. And when I reach new shores, I get the sand between my toes.

Dear diary, 

Today I learnt about the kind of happiness that hurts. Let me tell you diary, it’s unreal. It’s a lava lamp of chest tightening feelings and bliss. I tell only you this diary, because I hate being dissected and put in boxes. Now, I was in bed wrapped in my lovers arms. So tightly I started to wonder if our beating hearts were really just pumping to kiss each other in that moment, hoping that they could jump out. I checked the plug, followed the spark and saw all those lovely roses crawling out of the gutter. Perhaps an electric shock, the current through my skin questioning if I deserve this. Oh it’s just so beautiful, diary, it’s beautiful. I heard gun shots and sirens but hummed a lullaby. It’s all so chaotic and here it feels safe. I know about hard work, and I know about exerting effort. But for a while I seemed to have forgotten about smelling the flowers from the garden I worked my ass on. Life gave me lemons so I squeezed, but for a while I became inexperienced in drinking the lemonade. So diary, this state of joy accompanied by uncertainty is scary and so goddamn amazing. 

x

(Source: tomlinlauz)

I checked the voicemails on my phone and the latest one said: “Hey, it’s reality, be there soon”. The message was sent over two days ago so I jumped with flustered wings trying to tidy up the place. Feather dusting my distorted thinking out of the window sill, polishing the glass ready for more sunshine, ready for more dirt. I brushed the cobwebs of doubt spun by the venom-filled cynic who continued to work as if it was being paid by the minute. My closet had no skeletons because they’re too busy performing an autopsy on the secrets I shoved under my pillow, and the dreams I tried to fit in post-it notes along the wall. I hear reality coming up the drive way so I align my tea cups. I water the plant that always shed its leaves to remind me that everyone leaves and that is a lie. Not everyone does, because the stronger ones grow on trees and carve your name on their trunk. Now, my parents always told me that money doesn’t grow on trees, but they never mentioned that love made the strongest tree that’s as good as gold. And I know that Robert Frost said that nothing gold can stay, but I meant it more in a honey type of way. It’ll change in aroma, it’ll darken, it’ll crystallise- it’s almost on my door step, I must get ready.