Wisped away by the lisps
which fall from your lips,
like kisses upon my eardrums.
A reminder that
A seamless seamstress seems less,
than one with a crooked line
and a creative design.
People do inspire me to write a lot of things— generally the more hatred filled pieces. To go into extreme example (because I know she won’t ever see this, and I don’t seem to care anymore), Allisyn was the main inspiration for:
“Every high
carries an equally intense low:
“the end is nigh—
and you don’t even know.”
It’s probably pent up rage about how she makes me so happy and so pitifully sad at the same time. For the best example of this (and also the most recent one I’ve thought of), think of Gatsby and Daisy. Sure, I’m no Gatsby— but she is the true embodiment of Daisy. If I had to describe her in a word: aloof. I’m so attracted, but I know it will never work— she is too tied up in other things… other people. Thus the “high and low” idea was born.
On the opposite side of the spectrum, the “love” pieces are mostly made up fantasies, recollections from dreams, etc. Writing about happy things seems to be much harder for me. For example, words like “beautiful” and “amazing” are quite difficult to expand upon… How beautiful? Was it “like the setting sun”? Or was it “unparalleled in all of the cosmos”? Things like that are much harder to make clear, so I generally don’t try. (When I do, it usually doesn’t make it to my Tumblr. I have a big folder of writings… most of them are pretty bad or illegible ramblings of nonsense.)
I assume you’re talking about my writing that I posted last night. Nobody in particular. Simply inspired by the possibilities (both positive and negative) of life and love.
A twisted imagination can come up with the most intricate and devastating stories. A quote I like is: “A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities.” (J.R.R. Tolkien)
Breathless or
simply speechless,
I can’t decide
if I hate your guts
or love you to death.
//
You make me second think—
gasp at humor,
and laugh at death.
//
And these words,
blunt—pointless,
make no sense:
Under these blunders,
hidden lies this wonder,
my love.
Your breath was a downpour upon the limestone walls of my conscience—slowly cratering my thoughts into an empty chasm filled with darkness and marred memories of you.
Sometimes it’s just not enough
to strive to be
who you want to be
Because giving yourself hope
can be tough;
Because you,
you placed the rope
around your throat
and fell from your dreams
into a world in which nothing is
what it seems.
“YOUR GAY” they shouted. “DUDE YOUR GAY!!!” i ignored them. it wasnt until i got home that i realized my gay had escaped. they tried to tell me.
You’re*
(via james-moritarty)
the ceo of abercrombie and fitch has a lot of nerve saying that ugly people shouldn’t wear his clothes when he looks like a caucasian orc from the lord of the rings
PALE ORC.
YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID PALE ORC.
(via james-moritarty)
Loud knocks at my door;
Sitting still, they all came back,
memories of you
woah man tornado wornado in effect
DID I SERIOUSLY SAY FRICKIN TORNADO WARNADO OH MY GOD I MEANT WARNING
we have the possibility of a tornado-wornado, so please keep all your doorsie-woorsies locked, and make sure close your windows. We don’t want your housie-wouse to be blown away now do we!!
i swear to god
(via triple---hyphen)
