wants you to double tap .
[ You gave an old book
And it smelled of old glue
But more than that
It smelled of you.
But not of you
The thought of you
Because that's what smells
Are supposed to do ]
#qotd : Who's your favorite character in hp?
Comment or DM requests
"The Loneliest Swing"
At night all alone stood the swing.
A fitting piece to the park blanketed with empty darkness. The park as attractive as a void where all the lively things go to die. There was I.
I can't help feeling so defeated at times. No matter how hard I try. From all the effort I put out, nothing is ever put back into these yearning hungers of mine. It always ends up not being enough. No way to fill my gauge of happiness, but with the silver mercury that the moon hands to me. Instead the gauge overflows with that liquid misery. Driven with insanity, everything intoxicates me.
I feel empty inside. Sad to have everything look so meaningless, so small. To be happy one second then realize that I was wrong all along. That it was a lie I decided to try out because on everyone else it looks fine. On me the lie is a mantle that chokes my heart tight.
I can't breathe. And wherever I am I want to leave. Into the solace of a place as dark as the thoughts I carry within me. As empty as the gap left between them and me.
I have to understand that it shouldn't hurt, that I should let it be.
At night I realized alone is what some of us are always meant to be. -
Push me as hard as you can, I want to fly high.
I could do it all by myself but I won't say no to you for wanting to try.
Your hands on the small of my back aren't light.
I feel a steadiness, a force that makes my heart feel more than alright.
Leave me swinging, fingertips just at the edge of the sky.
I can do this all on my own, I am fine.
Let me remember your grip on my waist, the swing’s whine.
Don't worry about me.
It's okay if you have to say goodbye.
"It gets me mad how most of the people I miss made me feel like I was having open heart surgery with no anethesia, and it gets me mad how those people are perfectly content right now. I hope that doesn't make me selfish."
“Film of Distortion”
There's a film keeping me from seeing the reality of this situation.
You say to look out and admire the nature outside of the window. You say it will lull my racing thoughts.
Instead, I see the footprints on crunched leaves and wonder who they belong to. What they were running from, what they were running to.
I see the bark of a tree and think about how many hands have leaned against it. What they were up to.
I see the off duty streetlights and wonder what things they have witnessed in the nighttime.
I see the park and think about how many children go back, realizing they're no longer children and reflecting on adventures from the past.
I see the convent and the church. And I remember these dreams, these memories. They're so fuzzy I get this anxious pacing in my bloodstream. But these faints recollections have some sort of importance of me. I don't know why. It's like a puzzle with missing pieces.
Then I get hit by all the puzzles in my brain. They strain me every day. My heart goes wild and I can't help it. I can't control the watery breathing in my chest, or this restlessness I get.
You tell me to look out the window and the opportunity it holds. To live in the moment and forget.
But look at what I just did instead.
I looked through a film of distortion.
"Escape of the Lonely"
In my dreams I take advantage of all of the fantasies that invade my mind.
Those that in real time I can never seem to find.
Even when I'm running or hiding it's a feeling so divine because I have a purpose unlike my daily life.
If in my dream I can express the true desires of my mind, can you blame me for not wanting to let go?
Sometimes they leave me paralyzed.
They set my heart running, my thoughts racing for hours at a time.
They leave me crying.
But they have me feeling something. And that's all I want sometimes.
My heart craves excitement.
My mind craves adventure.
My soul craves fulfillment, a way to unwind.
I long for a mission like the ones that lonely characters in books always seem to find.
A way to leave this maddening reality behind.
Something special for this blue heart of mine.
Dreams are my escape, my tripping sun ray.
Forgive me for letting them take my emptiness away.
Take me to the spot where unhappiness drowns.
Where the water suffocates dark thoughts.
I want to wear a cold aqua crown.
Let me just see some black and white dots.
I want to go down, heavy in pain.
Lightly I want to float up.
Let me relieve the ache in my breath.
Purifying water running through my lungs.
Rock me. Lull me. Watch me just sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t grow up into a valuable sheep. From me there’s no gold wool or meat. I’m just a sad sheep that loves to sleep.
Scold me, I’ll scream. Push me, I’ll bray. Compare me, I’ll graze away over the mountains to a peak where the anger will fade and I can gaze upon the stars sleepily. Don’t expect much from me.
Ba-ba sad sheep in its crumbling crib. Safety and comfort in dreaming.
And though you wish for happiness your dreams can never grow.
In the garden it's clear that only the prettiest flowers get to show.
From your roots you are plucked out and thrown.
Left on the pavement torn.
Ready to be stepped on. -
The hand was gentle at first.
It shared its own dreams with a glow.
Then it smiled so warmly, capturing you in a moment so slow.
Like always, you thought:
This is the one, we can help each other grow.
The magic I have, oh it knows.
You didn't even realize that the smile was just for show and there away you'd blow.
Your own wishes scattered with a throw.
And the hand so happy on its own path continued to go.
You're told that you're special, that compared to how you see yourself there's a whole lot more.
Yet you always end up drained out on the floor. *Repost*