freedom. a new 'you' to write to. she told me she liked listening to me read my writings while she held her ear to my chest. it felt like my life started over after hearing that. sometimes it feels like my life will always try fooling me into believing that it is progressing, yet it always winds up back here with my ladened words. I wonder how i ( Read more... )

well let me finish Dmitri, why do you think im calling you just to say hello?

Wow. How can my feelings be so strong and seemingly genuine yet not reciprocated? Yet even in this hopeless and despaired feeling I feel an immense amount of comfort.

Standing their oblivious to the current reality. Numb to being stripped bare. Falling prey to the inward view painted on the over encompassing and mono toned canvas that is the inappropriately blurred dusk. Weakened by an instant of self awareness, strengthened by the anxiety. Writing to expose a moment of forceful translucence yet failing as if to ( Read more... )

I know you dont read these anymore, but i wanted to put this down so that I wouldn't forget how things seem to me right now ( Read more... )

How can i be expected to not have you near me. Ive spent so much time building up myself to resist anything else that would put me somewhere new or take something away from me. I never paid any attention to the hard task that was sneaking up on me. Ill miss my little beagle mouse so much.

I lie here in my disillusioned slumber, writing my words with no direction. The gentle cold coming in from the window brushing the curtains to a satisfying unrest reassures me that I am free to roam in search of my reason. There is a systematic solo playing itself into a risky desolence. The night is oblivious to it's unrelenting disturbance. Life ( Read more... )

I recollect. I remenisce.
I Look back to the freeing flow
of connection and cemented
interpretation of, the happiness
that, wires itself to the atmospherical
communion we share. I, share you
the unlocking extension
of the accompaniment to my mind.
You reach in returned favor.

Why do I shackle my written hand to the forever ongoing despair of translation of my disposition to the words that fill these lines? Even thinking this I feel I am only shaking the chains of my capture only to falsify my hope. The false hope I fill myself with increases the power and capability I feel I am giving to my discontent. I have to find a ( Read more... )

Jesus, don't cry ( Read more... )