wordsandwishes

sheer idiocy sometimes I hate my house like when I cannot put down a jug of water without the world exploding.

hinges chalk scratches on brick walls; they say this is a broken city. Then I suppose I must live among the dead.

123 I am expected to leave but also to miss, you. But why should I?

drop clasped hands in a cold chain of repetitive loneliness Broken mirrors on the grass; empty eyes and silent things do you see what I see? cast away slightly but ...

started I have a habit of, not finishing what I have

-poem segment- she saw life through the frame of a broken picture buried in the ashes of her sister. And life was an empty box; with nothing to hold and ...

splinters it would seem that I have landed on the ground hard enough to understand, that breaking an eggshell hurts a whole lot more than it ought to.

futile crumble her heart to pieces; why don't you? She knows she's got yours so she could care less.

I wouldn't, but I wonder things I wonder what it's like to lose it completely if but for a moment; to topple the bricks and crush all the stone and ...

Ashes, Ashes broken pictures on the wall are raining down their shattered pieces and broken bones. chalk dust faces fading at the edges of the tears within the papers and ...

She black eyes, blue eyes; old eyes, stone eyes. You thought you knew her You all did. green yes, grey eyes; dark eyes, dead eyes.

Here nor There Night is far more than a state of the sky, but the time where a side of the earth dares to face the endless outer darkness.

a meaningless something I tend to stare at things; entranced in small objects like the dust that floats aimlessly through the air. And I don't know why it is to ...

Thank you :)

... I am wondering things again. "Is typing and deleting, an addiction or an illness; I really cannot tell." Perhaps the internet is what the world would be like if ...