Can't be stopped. I write for Glo.guru. My interests vary.
Concealing dust motes under your eyelids because they stay closed. And I can never ask you why, for you are never looking at me. You don’t see; you’re an unblinking being. And not like the man who is blind due to misfortune, but like a heart that is stuck in chunky tar, refusing to appreciate awareness. You are not seeing life; you are not seeing it all as it flashes above our heads and on our sleeves as we each pass you on the streets. Dust motes, I said. Under your eyelids; under your ignorance it is stale and mold is starting to grow in place of the seedling of hope. Beware of the shiny tensile you use to decorate your head, to style your pseudo soul; for under your eyelids you are so old.@4 days ago
Deciding to just be friends because of too many feels.
Then deciding to be nothing at all because you can’t stop touching each other.@1 week ago
A good part of this summer has been stemmed in meeting new people and making friends. There is inspiration in the common man that can be shared when in close proximity to his/her life and being. I knew I needed that inspiration, and now I know that I always will. To hear you speak, to watch your eyes shift when taking in a scene, to know your story, to feel your skin; it is all about catching rivulets of inspiration to store within.@4 days ago
All the humming that I’ve been doing lately, all of the posturing too, all for you. Or should I say, dare I say, because of you. I have been me, in my own skin for months, now. But even so, you’ve heightened my sense of self-awareness. You’ve done to me what others cannot; you’ve made me breathe in my own essence and grow from my own soil in effort of trying to match your grinning wit and sly manner. In a roundabout way, you’ve made me myself. With congruent emotional detachment to hugs and discreet forehead kisses, and lazy explanations about love and drugs; I’ve learned through you.@2 weeks ago