mainejohn:

The miles between us are growing quicker than I could ever imagine.  I always believed that distance was travelled at a steady pace: clearer to the traveller than anything.  What a fool am I, because distance tiptoes in the darkness and hides its inevitable mass from all those who seek it.  It’s as though I am holding your hand and looking ahead, but with each step forward your fingertips slip away, centimeter by centimeter.  How could I be so blind?


2 weeks ago with 1 note
originally mainejohn

Alive

Her skin drank the warm, sweet nectar of the sun

Cheeks drawn up in an electric smile

As long chocolate locks cascaded through the air

Her eyes twinkled as her gangly arms raised

Bouncing to the beat of a rock song

She knows every word and closes her eyes as she lets them pour from her heart

Thousands of other hands are raised to the same rhythm

But she glowed, sparkled, and electrified

Her presence brought light, though sweat weighed down her skin

It’s as though she was alone amongst the crowd 

Because the crowd was just that— a crowd

While she was a person, a soul, a heart; she was alive

Filled with an energy so subtle it was almost untraceable

Every eye in the crowd watched her

Every heart on the stage opened up for her

For the girl whose eyes were shut

For the girl who needed no affirmation to know she was alive


The miles between us are growing quicker than I could ever imagine.  I always believed that distance was travelled at a steady pace: clearer to the traveller than anything.  What a fool am I, because distance tiptoes in the darkness and hides its inevitable mass from all those who seek it.  It’s as though I am holding your hand and looking ahead, but with each step forward your fingertips slip away, centimeter by centimeter.  How could I be so blind?


2 weeks ago with 1 note

She’s like a carousel on the boardwalk

Dancing in the salty twilight

A mesmerizing cycle of twirls, dress billowing

Her long locks wrap around the stars

And her smile forms a new constellation

The moon glows against her skin, kissed by the rays of the day

You watch her spin like a record

Intently listen to the song of her dazzle

Falling in love slowly with the girl who will never stop dancing long enough to notice your audience

A siren who does not know the intoxicating melody she plays

You are once again caught in a haze


Eight-thirty AM

It’s midnight and I’m sitting in bed.  Does it not sound average? It’s midnight and I’ve taken two NyQuils to try to fall asleep, but I can’t.  Does it not sound average?  It’s midnight and the universe seems to oppose the idea of me falling asleep.  It’s now ten past midnight, and my roommate is sitting across the room from me clicking and clacking on the keys of her laptop.  She opens a bag of chips.  The crunching noises begin to flow from her reverberating jaws and I turn my body in my own bed.  I withstand a few minutes of the incessant crunching before I frustratedly step outside of the room to sample the water fountain that I’m all to familiar with.  I can’t sleep, my heart hurts, my sinuses are congested, and I want to murder my roommate.  Tell me that my night is just average, and maybe then will I be able to fall asleep.  Eight-thirty AM classes find the best of me. 


The more I read, the more I know.  Knowledge is wonderful, and should be bountiful.  It seems to me that the more I know, the less I employ whatever decree of intelligence I may possess.  I rely on regurgitated fact or idea to solidify my thought process, or lack thereof. Rarely do I form my own opinions or support my own arguments because Lacanian theory seems to do a much better job.  At what point does simply knowing become too much? 


7 months ago with 1 note

Sleep Cycles

Last night I couldn’t sleep

All I wanted was a conversation.

But all i heard were voices

And the wind against my window

I tried to shut my eyes at one

But the temperature dropped

And I searched for a blanket

I tossed and turned until 

I was completely immersed

in a sea of fleece

My eyes closed again

But my mind wanted to wander

So I dreamed of a future

And resolved my past

Still so alone, I searched for company

A voice outside my head

Words on a tiny backlit screen

And the light lulled me out of sleep

Until the sun reached through my curtains

Finally, sleep embraced me

Another day has passed


Blind

Open eyes are but a choice

One can close them and

live their life in night

Stargazing, sleepwalking

Forever on an endless path

Illuminated by daylight’s glimpse

Sunlight creeps through the crevices

Awaiting the shutters’ openings

Until the sun sets out of sight

The walker walks on in the night

A half smile molded onto the lips

Full impossible without

The light of the day

Unknown to the blind


A Phoenix of the Words

Pages fill quickly and ink pillages paper

When an active mind has no one to speak to 

Desires become the main characters in a plot

That eerily resembles the life dreamed of once upon a time

A love so perfect, embodied by a broken writer’s words

Crafting happiness with a string of words and a touch of glitter

How ironic that a heartbreak becomes a masterpiece

Do we admire its transformation or mourn its veil of reality?


In the Pit

She feared his touch

Because it left her powerless

But her closed eyes had visions of an unrequited love

A mesh of perfect gears

Drawn together by an engineer

She shudders at the thought

She knows it’s true and that it’s beautiful

But still she runs away

Unsure of why but sure of everything

Her journey plagued by remorse

But extinguished by her pride

A delicate but brash volley between the what-ifs and could-haves

Unrequited love against unrequited guilt

A battle of a lifetime

Death the champion


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