don't be a fucking dick
〰️
update nothing, impress no one
〰️
memento mori
〰️
don't be a fucking dick 〰️ update nothing, impress no one 〰️ memento mori 〰️
my screens smell like smoke
*tapping my index to the bpm of waves outside*
Left right, left right,
left right, left right.
Frankly, this tempo is driving me crazy.
Sorry, I was running back and
forth across my sentences
and (honestly) never checking if it was
right to cross them in the
first.place.
2nd, I find it unfair
how she’s allowed to lay next to me and
explore her subconscious without me. It feels
selfish to only occupy my mind
when I want to live in yours.
How have I never been questioned on the cost of the world?
How have I never realized how much I wanted it?
When I’m lucid, I’m haunted by
houses hiding liminal spaces.
I descend as death grips from the
up-side-down ceilings of stairs.
For some reason, the devil
won’t stop doing the tango on my shoulders
with a recent daydream of mine;
you have to understand how natural my feet were moving in a pitch black room,
while
simultaneously
being
so
exhausting.
By the end of most nights,
I question the fun of living in reality
when I’ve spent my day trying to alter it.
I guess I never really calculated the
gravitational pull each of my words have.
I drown out the world with music but it’s me being drowned out.
i’m running on 200%
When’s the bubble going to poppoppoppop on
pressuring me to keep thinking about
tomorrow when there are [strat(o/us)][cumulus] clouds
a few feet above my head?
Between my middle-index: a fiery orange-tailed
supernova. I play with it like a drumstick, I roll
around in it like my next day(dream).
There’s electricity pulsing in my ears: when
I’m blacked out
I wonder if that’s my lowest pe(e/a)k. In
parallel, my head is above water by
a few inches - my chin.up is in limbo. I’m being taken away by brainwaves that
sometimes tell me I’m not as good a person as I know I am.
I drown in my mind
while i constantly fantasize about how
I just want to drown in yours,
have you ever learned to swim against that
current? Every night at twenty-one:45pm, she
tells me how heroic I am: but
I argue (internally, of course - right?)
how life is better through the prescription lens of
a villain. The rhythm in my lungs
syncopates a little off
beat to the jazz brass section
we felt back in 19.
I have to remind myself to breathe,
I just keep losing it ever since you’ve been around.
Too many years have passed without even
a {hi}story to tell.
it took 57 minutes to break 8 years of silence
when lightning strikes, do you run away or grab it with a death grip
written alongside listening to many songs, but smile - schoolboyq was on repeat.
breathe in breathe out
“I always saw myself having an apartment with a balcony. on the balcony, there’s a side table with an ashtray. I couldn’t tell you if that ashtray was for cigarettes or weed, but smoking was always in the picture for my future” - a thought from 2016 reiterated in 2022.
update nothing, impress no one
I stopped caring about social media 5-6 years ago and I still don’t know if that was the right choice or not. I think i’m too private, whether on purpose or not.
i’ve held 3 morals in my phone since december.2016:
don’t be a fucking dick
update nothing; impress no one
memento mori
push me harder
when I was 17, I thought I was going to kill myself. I was driving 70mph on the b.r.p. and all that ran through my head was “is it going to happen? is this it?”
a car merged in without seeing me from the right shoulder and all my instincts told me to go left. go left. go left. I went left.
there was no one in the middle lane, I guess the absence of someone was my savior that day.
I haven’t heard the pedals speak to me since that day.
you need me
I told my father when I was 7.years.old that I would be more successful than him and he said “I believe you.”
21 years later and I still don’t know how to define “success” or even know if i’m on the right path.
I went against everyone’s expectations just to prove something to myself but how do you measure accomplishments when that wasn’t even the primary goal?
stay longer please
I cringe every sunday knowing that my screen time went up. I’ve lived the past 15+ years of my life behind a screen; sometimes, I really wonder who I even am.
my darkest hours were always between 1:20am-3:37am. i’ve conjured demons i’m not proud of anymore (was I ever really proud of them to begin with?).
they say the phone’s are listening to us, but really we’re just listening to them.
it's been 2.5 years
date: 7.14.19
it’s been 2.5 years v.2
i wonder if this is really what it feels like to
hold hands with you.
(i don’t want to let go, my mother told me that’s the hardest part)
she told me to look up at the stars (it was a pitch
black night, but i knew that her next to me was the only light
that mattered), but i couldn’t see the signs she was professing.
there was smoke lingering in the air above our heads.
i broke down
how my past has been so destructive
and how i lust to put myself in situations that really
don’t need to happen but
what i’ve really been trying to say this entire time
is that i love the feeling of feeling
this happy and scared at the same time. (i’m lying)
sometimes in the quiet hours of the night,
her hair entangles itself into mine and i guess that lately
i look to that as a sign
of permanence in this fast paced life.
(no one has told me to slow down yet)
every so often i sleep just a little longer because my pillows
smell just like her and i shed tears
at the way she cuddles up next to me.
i just hope that she’s here to stay.
fuck it feels good to be back.
it's been 5 years since i got yelled at for writing this
date: 3.9.16
untitled | 3.9.16
i spotted her across 72nd street
wearing a red flannel and
jeans that ripped right below her knees.
i fell in love with the idea
she called herself queen and
managed to smiled with only the upper half
of her mouth, slightly biting her lip
as if she was nervous but excited to tell
you about how she sees stars revolve around your head.
i told her years back about how he was just a
phase yet i was a lifetime
while she laid her head on my shoulder to the
rhythm of subway tracks at 72mph.
she wrote about me (i hope) on her palms
with a pen, she called it her very own style of
palm reading (i call her my future).
i wrote this with the intention of mixing the choir of ultralight beam and the single background vocal in wolves.
i was picturing moonrise kingdom and how innocent love used to be.
it's been 4 years since i've written this
1.6.17
this one wasn’t supposed to be true
she kissed my broken lips at 12:00am
(i’m not sure if they were cracked because
i was drunk or because i smoked
a menthol maybe 34 minutes prior)
and whispered to me that 2017 was her year
(it was our year, but really just her’s)
with an attitude that read “fuck what everyone thinks”
in times new roman size 9. she wrote / emailed me letters
back in summer.2015 and i told her how incredible
i felt having her at my fingertips but i really couldn’t control
the fact that i was at hers.
i was at hers last tuesday and the night
before that she held me so gentle and
swore by her fingers interlocked in mine
that she was ready and the look of excitement
in her eyes slightly mimicked mine because
she had a glisten in her dilated eyes
when she revealed pieces of this mystery (at least that’s
what she called us) to someone else but now they know
and i’m not even sure if i know what they should know and
sometimes i cry at night because what’s keeping me
warm is the fact that you won’t be next to me in the morning.
notes from 8.28.20
i screamed internally about how my original sin really didn’t feel original anymore.
nowadays, the air is little too still for my ever moving lungs. i thought prayer would take me to different realms but here i lay among my previous mistakes.
i thought by now i’d have things figured out.
a snippet from an interview of someone i look up to
“i believed for a very long time that there was strength in vulnerability, and i really don’t believe that anymore.”
