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Vertical Prose

July 2nd, 2012

34.28 @ 12:16 am

a perfect day
the weather
the winds

watching the clouds pile up

pile up

black billowing smoke from time to time
my face rubbed in my own piss

grey clouds
bright white clouds
hurts my eyes
I'm used to the white of my dimmed screen

have I given up?
am I living like I've giving up?
do I ever believe I'm living?
how often I forget. . .
how often since I felt it was a blessing than a curse

"...the one that you feed. . . "
the wolves in my heart
but it's just as simple as making choices
I remember when that seemed simple

but now
every now

choose hope
choose love
choose life
choose beauty

it's a perfect day to choose joy
the best idea I ever had

. . . I must have left it in the pocket of those pants that were in a bag that got stolen with my other precious things

"he'll never return it
we'll have to make new love"

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Date:July 2nd, 2012 08:53 am (UTC)
Stop looking, don't scratch the scab, let it heal, let it come to you. Why must you analyze, specialize, internalize. Don't try to make it "me", don't be your own suffering. Martyrs are only pretty in fairy tales. You have looked within before, but now you build walls. Why not sit down and feel sorry for your position and your fate? Let all of that shit out if that is what must be. When you finish, if you cannot love yourself, at least like yourself. Your shadow needs to be accepted, ugly it may be, but not every part need be beautiful. It is all you and the whole is beautiful. Or do you enjoy the attention you give yourself?
Date:July 2nd, 2012 10:51 am (UTC)
great verse! thanks!

Vertical Prose