It’s nearly spring.
The cold is so much colder when you’re trying to keep warm
With every chilling wind, a breeze curls around your neck
Only to pull tighter with acknowledgement
The sooner you accept the cold-
Accept the numbing embraces
The sooner the shivers stop
The sooner the frosty ligature around your neck is released,
The sooner you learn to live in the bitter cold.
A poem written by Andy Blevins’ dad.
My ex-wife was one of those blowjob on your birthday kinda women, you guys know what I mean. But even that was ok, at first, but then it got down to a handjob on my birthday -towards the end- it was like ya’ know what? You can masturbate in the shower on your birthday, fuck her! I did that on every holiday. Bitch.
My skin is crawling to meet the feeling.
You never could understand how hard your words hit me when they do. And like an anchor, you sink me back down to the Earth’s core. The bottom of the ocean. You sink me back down where I belong. You’re an anchor. You’re my anchor.
You’ve always been the kind of person anyone could fall back on. But I don’t want to fall back on you. I’m strong. I can keep myself afloat. I don’t need you. I can swim. I don’t need you, but I love having you here. You bring me to the surface when I start to drown. You are a life jacket. You are my life jacket.
When you read this, I hope you know it’s about you. I can’t tell you how much you mean to me. Never could, never can. Our bond will never be describable to me. You have a very special place in my heart. You are my anchor and you are my life jacket. You are my every strength and my every weakness.
I want to hurt you.
To hurt you as much as you hurt me.
But instead I’ll just hurt myself.
I love this. -steals-
(Source: you-tease-me-so-much)
Humming to an unfamiliar tempo.
I’m singing the words to a song I don’t know the music to. It’s like the beat is stuck in my head, but I can’t put a title to it. I can’t put an artist to it. I’m sick and this song is my lullaby.
Today was rough.
It is as if we are just two people on a boat without oars. Drifting off into an unfamiliar place we don’t belong in. Even though we’re lost at sea, I know with strong enough limbs we can swim our way back home. Even if that place isn’t where we set sail. And when we’d get there, we’d kiss like shipwrecked survivors kiss the sand.
Coke: Roses are red, violets are blue. Bray you so fine, my balls just turned blue.
I’m like a house cat waiting to be declawed.
I think I’m going to start writing poetry again. I guess we’ll see how this goes.
