It’s Nights like this,
That the elastic does not hurt enough,
To relieve the pain.
The feelings aren’t clear enough,
To make sense.
The ice isn’t cold enough,
To numb my palm.
And The heater isn’t hot enough,
To make me light-headed,
To make me pass out for just a second; long enough,
To Make me crash my car,
To forget that nothing I do, will be enough,
To make you trust me.
Instead of saying motherfucker you can just say Oedipus
Half of our generation wouldn’t even understand that
yes you are right the thousands of notes on this post prove how ignorant our generation is. only you are intelligent. you are the chosen one.
only real Ancient Greek kids would understand
reblog if ur a tru 650BC kid
I know I should be sleeping
But I can’t stop thinking.
Because I wonder if you care
To know the in’s and out’s of me.
How I think, what I want, how I feel?
Or Rather, you only care about moving
Rhythmically moving in and out of me.
It’s not a game to me.
So you wonder why I feel sad, or angry,
Maybe it’s because I’m thinking about
Things you have never even dreamed about.
Because my mind is a clusterfuck
Of what-have-yous and maybe-if’s
And it is dragging me down.
told me -
"never fall in love
with a boy
a larger dick,
than he has,
I’ve become increasingly aware that poetry ages the mind.
It takes your youth and burns it to the ground
Ignites a flame that can never be put out.
The burning feeling in your heart caused by an unrequited love
Is like poetry.
Like your mind is a piece of Pollock’s art
Scattered; but beautifully arranged to confuse spectators.
It’s like poetry.
Mind; racing at 120 miles per hour
Heart; at the same beats per minute
Legs; steadfast; Catatonic.
It keeps the mind open
With arms as wide as valleys
And hearts as large as mountains.
It is poetry.
All similes aside. This metaphor is not expendable.
Because poetry, ages the mind,
And keeps it from being
I love you too ^_^