(via fragileminded)
Oh my god, this.
(via axisone)
(via axisone)
me getting what i deserve, starring tululah.
unknown
i could kill you but there would be no point.
leave you with my thoughts, for a change.
running and running
running through your head until you can’t stop.
play the game.
you would sit, you would
starring into nothing, thinking the way that you do.
leaving me here to continue on.
you think you left me but you have no idea.
you just have no idea.
________________________________________________________________
I Don’t Remember…
I don’t remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.
I don’t remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.
I don’t remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.
I don’t remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.
And I don’t remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only…
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,
“I love you.”
” - Copyright by Ash L. Bennett, 2011Feb 9
these are the moments no one remembers. lying awake, aimlessly searching through forests of internet, looking for what probably doesn’t exist. Any form of hope, any voice that tells me everything is going to turn out great. This is the between times, that no one remembers. But nothing changes, nothing appears, and I am still here. In this state because what I think I need is gone. Or maybe doesn’t exist yet. This state is purpose, and can only turn into answers with time. Fuck time.
benediction - thurston moore
Why I Hate Reading Maps by Gabriel Gadfly
I have unrolled a map
onto my kitchen table
and put one finger
where you are and
another where I am.
The space between
is only inches. That close,
I could feel you breathing.
I could reach out and
run my fingers through
every strand of your hair,
touch your lips and
barely need to move.
In the corner of the map
there is a guide for judging scale:
every inch a hundred miles
full of roads and rivers and trees,
the guide a sharp reminder
that you are where you are
and I am where I am,
inches apart.
