You Have Chosen The Path That I Don’t Understand
you have chosen the path that I don’t understand
The path that I don’t understand
is the path held onto like crutches, you use when you wander through your world
adjust yourself successfully and call your new friends
Maybe it’s all an ego acid trip for me that I dreamt up, an ice cold witch brew breathed into
I always imagine up everything beloved
whatever trace you want to leave behind is made up from the little things you do
More Posts from Safiresyrup and Others
spent time walking
watching
memories drive by
What runs once used to be slow
the bad things used to feel good
i sit in wonder
What I do
What I do is I compress all the love into a tiny spark
living in the firecracker, ready to take off
what I do is deny my obsession, and the eventual fall
-s's.
I would especially like to apologize
to you, for I
was skipping rocks
over the pool
of which you cried
-s's.
I am myself as one says I am,
Suggesting my home of a soul stay the way
I have been all morning sitting sitting sitting boring
-s’s.
you always come with the bad news
I always wonder if you had to
The bad news is
I never will
bereave these nights
so slow and lowly
wandering mind
learns about the things you hide
-s’s.
you should know by now what a liar i can be, with two fingers crossed and whispering to you goodnight and sweet dreams, while i resist sleep in favor of picturing what tomorrow's abrupt entrance may bring—
what strength the dusty wind will blow with, what color of light the radiant sun will shine, what striking songs the birds will choose to sing,
or whether this heaviness will still weigh my life's sins on my heart and my mind,
and, maybe, what words from you will greet, from behind a waking veil, these still-sleepy morn eyes;
That is my problem
I cannot burn like you do
If I were to alight
I would roar as a star across space and time
Bending light and burning bright
Sending ripples through time
Devouring all in sight
Vigilanti Inkheart
Good to me
I stare into a space where I’ve outrun myself from
It feels too good, I feel it should be worse and less welcoming
but it is honey
engulfing me,
Above me, beneath me, is
a coat of faux fur, a distant melody, and somebody else's warm wish and stolen dream.
something in soft wind
something in lockets
women in frost
fleeing the country
A little bit lost
it felt
-s’s.
de Dreamland (a soft war)
am I so soft and alone as they say that I am, in dreamland?
dream of an ugly diary, destined for the bin
seemed like a pretty thing, a life less full of sin
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