|My second Daily Deviation.|
Lost Causes and Silver Linings"I don't watch tv." He says as he flicks his cigarette.Lost Causes and Silver Linings by EmaciatedandEpitaphs
Marlboro red's, always.
"Oh..." I mumble
"I'm sorry. I just assumed..." I say,
but I stop
'cause it's all wrong again,
"Go spew your bullshit to someone who's willing to swallow it."
He is acidic yet sympathetic,
soft, always soft.
"Get on with your life..." he pauses with split-second hesitation,
"...and stay the fuck out of mine."
I see concern creasing betwixt his brows, wrinkles of remorse,
And I think maybe, just maybe
he'll miss me
'cause god knows
"I'll miss you..."
"Don't. Just don't."
His words reverberate through my veins; lava cauterizing arteries.
"Why do you insist on making this harder on yourself?
You knew the situation was temporary,
and we aren't even the same people anymore.
I'm not the same anymore...
I'm sorry i
drinking gamedrinkdrinking game by successwithhonor
ever since I've been thinking a lot,
I've been spending too much time on the internet,
not enough reading secrets from parchment lips,
see, something sinister happens when the sun falls
asleep, when darkness dances to midnight with the monsters
inside of you
and lately I've been writing too much, or not enough,
or somewhere in between because sometimes letting
your words do the screaming for you just ends up making things louder
when it rains, the insects dig themselves up from the mud
to keep from being washed away,
and lately I've been drinking too much, hoping I can drown
this siren song of lonely
the bottle is a shipwreck sailing in the depths,
the blade is a shovel, a set of cold hands
so you better start digging, the bones are buried deep
it hurts hearing your voice elsewhere;
you were a songbird once and I remember, I'm not sure if you do
but sometimes I hear an echo when I cut the voices
out from underneath my skin,
and we all bleed the sa
slow nightThis night drifts slowly towards the dawn.slow night by Goombaslayer
Such nights are for slow songs and solitude.
To contemplate and create.
To open hidden doors.
To fill blank pages
With oceans of consciousness.
suffering and freedomCataracts have grown over my eyes.suffering and freedom by Goombaslayer
Blinding me from the gorgeous tragedy
That bestows wandering winds to my moored soul.
Suffering and freedom on the East coast.
Pines call to me like a mother
Searching for her lost young.
Desperate and warm.
Lounging in the decay and sap filtered light,
I find myself.
I am calloused fingers looking for scratch and song.
A Vagabond of soft heart and pernicious wrongs.