i have to admit there was a time when the idea of you and me
was equal to everything that is intangible.
there used to be a time when love was a city
and this city was surrounded by walls that stood sentinel all around,
with a golden gate to keep the likes of us out.
later in life, i realised i was born on the wrong side of the gate
i realised that i’ve never seen any more of this great city
other than its silhouette at pre-dawn.
no wonder i wake up too early, when the sun hasn’t yet risen
and the streets are still empty, the dust settled.
they all talk about the road to happiness and the path to hell
but there’s never been a path or a road, a ladder or a mountain.
we’re in the middle of an ocean.
and we were never set out to swim.
we are shipwrecks and oil spills,
our arms are packed with the same things that anchors are made of.
but then, the gates flung wide open
and we ran til our feet were but blisters and blood.
we ran til the air we breathed began to choke us
so we gasped for more, and for a moment we were like fishes out of water:
weightless, free, and dying. it was the closest we’ve ever come to beautiful.
and then, we came in contact with the concrete.
for the first time, i didn’t mind being broken at all.
"it’s not enough to love her," she said. "boy, you gonna have to let her know too."
this is what i do:
- We sit idle for today.
Dunno, man but “it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.” - Lana del Rey
she tiptoes atop fences
in need of paint,
four feet high.
on one side, the grass
are like needles
with eyes that wait
for threads to pass
through because the sky
here breaks more often
so it is in constant need
of repair. but the earth here
is softer and the birds,
on the other side,
the flowers are bent low.
some say the wind blows
fiercer here. but no one
can see the wind.
so some blame the thorns
tiptoeing across a rose’s
it’s a lovely painting, you say.
Yeah. Send them in :)
Like a girl, I suppose :)
- (via reykogast)
i think we’ve established the difference between lonely and alone by now. but then, 3am us has been writing to 3pm us more often again lately. and she’s finding new ways to tell us that life sucks.
there are crickets outside and i have no idea how near or far they actually are but they all sound like they’re rubbing their little wings furiously on top of my brain like there’s no tomorrow.
when i was little, i used to hide beneath the blankets with a flashlight and a book to read until after midnight. by then the crickets would start to sing. and i’d rub my own hands together as fast as i could, hoping for some music, or for them to catch fire. either way, i would’ve been a happy kid.
i was never the happy kid. but the happy kids never knew the difference between lonely and alone. and i do, i do. just, not now.