The clock has been ticking for a while now A stopwatch set by my own hand still i stand shocked reminded of it’s finiteness My finger pulsates over pause, contemplating all the possibilities to rest and to be reckless to prove that I could let go and live to wind down the loop of tight that I had wound up in To win – because god do I hate losing, unless it’s control of myself of course my first love was madness afterall

for all the words you say you leave a dozen unspoken you say you love me and i don’t doubt it, but I wonder to what extent love is enough you push then pull then push again passing judgment with self-effacing remarks, claiming to be unsatisfied yet yiu stay, ungodly…

you never think about time until it’s past i often have to remind myself to be where my feet are planted my mind drifts back to past versions and contemplates future versions more readily i think i’d prefer never thinking of time until it’s past — oh to be where my two feet stand firm unstuck in time’s intricate design hallucinating memories where everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt i guess it’s true that eventually, terrible memories turn into great ones

“in 6 words tell me a story” i challenged she smiled softly, contemplating for a moment. and slowly she said, “kill me for I’m a romantic”. It was then that it was decided, we were fated to be a tragic comedy Sacred new beginnings. you are my new religion. iconoclastic delight from my personal byzantine.

just enough. k. ; i have trouble not believing everything i think…call it grandiose, but i think i have an intuition for these type of things. my eyes flicker as they meet yours, my tongue is at the edge of my lips and i’m begging for more. you love just…

there’s pieces of you everywhere i turn you’re the broken glass on the ground that i can’t help but step on so now i drive by the streets we used to walk and think of all that’s brand new i have respect for my past self so i try not to dwell tell me, do you think of it too? think of moonlights and drunk nights and words left unsaid im thinking more of pages filled with ink and regret i bet you think of sunrise and greenlights, and meyer street at the corner of 10th

How the Cookie Crumbled Shattered edges glisten Sitting pretty, reminding me of my secrets glimpses of kisses glimpses of the girl he misses glimpses of past narratives that force me to reminisce Words fail me, when once they were trustworthy Red skies painted pink, masquerading as something Fools recognize that there’s nothing I’ll never be free of my madness, my audience knows me as riddled by bad habits

The Type of Love I Wish I Could Pack up and Put in a Jar I think about the way love rolls off my tongue with ease and how sometimes the words just spill out of me. & I contemplate how those words haven’t lost a single ounce of meaning…

“Of all the people that you’ve ever kissed am I your favorite” she asked, my eyes wide staring up intensely. He was shocked by the question. Frankly, she was shocked too. she felt his heart speed up through my palm that rested on his chest. watching as his green eyes…