We were never innocentit's unsettling how we always arriveWe were never innocent
at each other’s boundaries as if we belong to that gray realm of understanding one another.
we question. like tearing flesh off bones, we rip away the caution, the secrecy, the barriers that we have built to protect us from the ones that pry us open wide.
but we open we let the other in, we strip and reveal. yet after all the words are said so much still remains unspoken crackling like electricity in the distance that separates us that we cannot find a way to bridge. &
This is meThis is me. I am the strong and independent, the intelligent and determined, the unconventional and free.This is me
I am destined for greatness. I am the beating heart of a generation that refuses to be fit into categories. I am the burning anger of every revolution. I am the unstoppable. This is me letting go of illusions and lies. This is me opening my eyes to the world. This is me no longer afraid.
CaffeineRandom images and solid objects all flow together like watercolors. I see things move out the corner of my eyes as everything in front of them begins to blur. Is this it? Is this the end of sanity, or the beginning of madness? Or maybe it’s the hazy line in between, the staticky world beyond diagnosis and definition.Caffeine
One more cup of coffee and I might cross the line, if indeed there is a line to cross. Would things seem clearer on the other side? Would I find my answers there or are there only more questions waiting for me?
Tracks, wheels, noise – like a heartbeat slowing down to a flat line… only to quicken once more; lik
ResentmentYour words fall on the floor with a thud, Never reaching me. Your fingers are still clawing at me,Resentment
Peeling away layers and layers,
But never even coming close to who I am. I won't let you be the one to judge me, Your words are meaningless to me. Your presence irritates me,
The way a smoke-filled room makes
my eyelids feel scratchy every time I blink. Your smile is as warm
and as treacherous as black ice. And like a snowflake, beautiful and
cold to the touch, You leave no trace behind
but the unpleasant memory of chill down my back.
Emerveillementthey made us read kafkathey made us read kafka without preamble or warning or so much as a breath in the direction of a foreward no prologue no anatomy of a cockroach they made us read kafka and in my final essay, I swore that he was a crazy nut who slept outside in a cardboard box underneath the 110 freeway in downtown Los Angeles with the rest of his former existentialists who turned men into insects and arrested innocents. they made us read kafka and wrestle with his unfinished stories, essays novels social commentary... graduated, resigned, bitter wthey made us read kafka
by `blackeri
4 am
Uneasy
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