i am too weary to arrange the flowers,
a quiet boy,
an unmade bed,
and all the tragedy this implies.
some secrets exist only at night-time,
in anaesthetic dreams :
so carefully hidden once morning comes.
(I have started a collection of photos of flowers, entitled 'sad flowers'. There is no purpose to it. Click to see.)
i'll find a scientist to help me
bottle these worlds,
send them off to sea.
it's strange how really, i never know anyone.
everytime they come, they go, too - and i'm filled with such longing,
you'll never come home, no
and i'll never let you in, either.
i have this life and
if i could have it
i would have chosen
from the beginning.
(i hate gay clubs so much... why are you under the impression that because i dance with you for 5 seconds it's okay to suddenly grab my dick?)
il y a, dans nos regards
tendresse et circonspection mêlées.
je l'aimais sombre, je l'aimais clair,
mais jamais je ne pourrai pardonner
cet amour de violence douce.
si seulement je pouvais me contenter d'être jeune et beau.
si seulement je pouvais me perdre dans la simplicité et l'élégance.
unable to say
"i want you"
unable to say, even:
"i am unable".
aching in the metal silence of my dreams
old words re-surface in my slut throat, naming themselves "oblivion","exile", "betrayal" or
cassiel, have you deserted me?
Rule number one - don't blame the monster, blame yourself. Whatever happens, it's your life, you were supposed to be in control and you fucked it up. Snap out of it and grow up. Because clearly, you know how to fix yourself, but you're just lazy.
I used to love this tough love approach, to be made pathetic for my flaws, but now, all it does it make things worse. This week has been hard and it's Tuesday morning. I have little to no interest in anything since last Sunday, other than sleeping, video games, and my artwork. I don't want to do anything.
Emotional and poorly structured, I apologize in advance.
Every guy who could have had something with me, and didn't, ends up regretting it. Every guy who has had something with me also ends up regretting it.
I think I just build people up to expectations about me, and once they find out I'm merely human, despite the way I see things and act, they're disappointed.
what i was given,
and what i have lost.
I dream a little bit about the chance of seeing you, what I would say and what you would. This anguish is terrible, yes, but exhilarating, pornographic almost. It is something and it is real, visceral.
Sometimes I am filled with moments of great clarity, where things make sense. Then others I am unable to move forward.
And I think:
However, the importance lies not in the fall but in the landing.
(so back to daydreams...)
(For those who are interested, I came across a whole bunch of photos that I hadn't touched yet - I'm editing them all and putting them on my portfolio/visual diary Tumblr. Link is on my user page.)
need a band-aid for my soul
cover the leaks with tape
ignore the problem and maybe it will go away.
i wish i could go away.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
(When you feel like dying everyone says that you should tell someone. Anyone. I went to the only person I thought I could trust 100%, to someone who I thought might be able to understand.
"If that's really how you feel, then just fucking do it."
this speed could mean death
but i'll be in the sky
but i'll be in the sea
i'll be in that line on the horizon
in that space between
blue and green
in a child's crayola drawing
the truth is that sometimes, when someone close hurts you, you don't want any mending.
you stole me and he stole you and we're all walking around in skin that isn't ours with voices that don't match and saying words we don't even mean with smiles that are