beea20

Left behind, it is best to take into account the fact that it was never yours to grasp onto and lock away. Even so, perhaps taking that account into account did not help our situation very much at all.

My chin aches where it was resting on my palm. It has been there for far too long. I would care to lift it. If my mind would entertain itself long enough to move. Ten million, seconds Have passed me by As I linger.

Time, should slip beneath my consciousness, while imagine soars beyond. I can make stories up. Play them out. Live them each moment. If time didn't rest above, on the highest shelf, priority number one. naturally.

I enjoy the thought of so many thoughts lying in weight. Concrete, pulsing my secretive wishes open for eyes to see. I can cover them up in calligraphy                -  you’d be none the wiser or spirit reality away and call them imaginations? “reality isn’t quite as romantic”                -  I would say Perhaps, one day I won’t need a set of eyes to lie to, to cover up for. I could drop the cursive lettering, instil something

I've time-travelled and redone the past, reshaped thoughts, who I was.

Anguish in discovery racks and devours. And now, with my half heart, (the part not eaten) I expect to sing all the sad songs I sang before and I expect to be ( am expected to be) all the smiles I've always been.

Often it's the skim Of my hand against the keys That reminds me of how Distant This is from the me that eats laughs pains and breaks toenails. In this trance, relationships are Constant refreshing And numbers -I count the messages -I anticipate the likes 'till I need a glass of water

the eye is the center of your mind. from it all energy radiates. binding everything, controlling your soul not your mind. the soul's protecter, the eye is more important than you know. keeping your secrets, holding your lies. the soul is allways falling, slowly without progress. and when it leaves, fianlly fallen, the eyes closes, and your gone. no more body, nothing to bind it. you have evolved, into something pure. without the trivial mind, only a soul. then you are free and saved. the eye's counterpart

Wisp I find myself cutting off the circulation and burying these (deep) thoughts deep deep away in my nightly terrors. As a child I always found a clothesline- to seperate- myself from the bodies constantly flowing around me. The agony it costs me to compose these notes- these letters to you now, is the same blind elbow across the face and awkward joints that haunt my fears. I shall prevail- with or without you. There was always an extra letter anyways. (c) Kristen Smith

Rest assured blank face, The suspicion is all a sign of past treachery. Don't fret to yourself, Don't fret at all. Don't be the weaker one, Don't be weak at all. I'll separate the grime from the lungs myself. If it means keeping the IC breathing. I'll separate the body from the mind myself, If it means keeping the IC talking. I wont allow you to enter closure. Not now, Not now. Rest assured worried one, The apprehension is a sign of past lecturing. Don't scream to yourself, Don't scream at all. Don't be the wicked one, Don't be wicked at all. I'll separate the grime from the lungs myself. If it means keeping the IC breath

                                                                   A                                                              delicate                                                              balance                                                                  of                                                         chosen words.                                                     To keep the scales                                                           in balance.                                                           I'm scared                                                              to talk    

Recall this is a vigil, not a fight A quiet hand demands a quiet mind Don't think about tomorrow; you'll be right. Protect my puzzling soul and keep it white For under judgement it would fall apart Recall this is a vigil, not a fight I'm sure that if you look back on this night Your sightless messangers will see a waste Don't think about tomorrow; you'll be right. Devotion of my spirit's at its height (I told you I was bad at proving love) Recall this is a vigil, not a fight And leaving you is not a callous flight But longing separates - I've seen it done. Don't think about tomorrow; you'll be right. In torturous empathy, I kno