#aoq

while waiting on aurum to aliven, have an aoq qoute of me i cant turn into a incorrect quote!

i. and i'll stand slack-jawed tongue dripping in awe over the mess these two hands will leave. and i'll stand weak-kneed and chest heaving as my back is burned by my shower water. and i'll allow the slimy hands of guilt and gluttony find their way into my ribcage latch onto my bloody, beating heart and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. until they make a mess of me. ii. in another life, there is passion and secrets to be held in the mouths of the youth. iii. in this life, there is nothing but the guarantee of smoke and two-way mirrors. iv. lay down your weapons, your pens, and your books. lay down your vices, your fears, and your grievances. lay down your head, your lover, and your heart. lay down your life for the chance of becoming a valiant hero. v. you will always be at war with the world. arm yourself. vi. or will you allow its sword to nick the back of your heel? vii. will you allow for your best friend to bleed out in your arms? viii. will you allow for the heavens to become more beautiful with the addition of your lover's eyes? xi. are you willing to die? x. are any of us?

1. It’s been 3 years since I’ve last written a sonnet. It’s been 3 years since I’ve truly picked up a pen and bled. 2. I’ll never have my shit together. There will always be days where I sob in the shower; where I let the water scorch my back and run down my cheeks in rivulets. I’ll have my dry spells-I’ll have times where my back is arched from the pain of simply existing, but I’ll make do; I always make do. 3. HER writing may always be more sophisticated than mine. Maybe I’ll be saddled with my teenage angst well into my twenties. Maybe my mind is only capable of concocting convoluted plots of girls with too many feelings and not enough outlets. HER words were made to be spilled from powerful lips, and to resemble that of nuanced wisdom. Mine were made from honey and blood and spit and the codeine coated tears of an ap student running off of 3 hours of sleep. 4. “And there’s this haunting song. This, beautiful, breath-taking, haunting song on. And we’re just cruising down Ford Ave. ya’ know? Not doing much of anything; not looking for anything in particular. B-but it’s like, in that moment, where the song was nearing it’s end, and the car was slowing to a stop at the light and he started humming the words. It was at that moment where I wanted to clutch onto his arm and beg him to take his foot off the brake, to hit repeat, to never stop humming, to never stop being here, in this moment, with me.” 5. There are lessons to be learned in madness, like: How to keep the blood from rushing out of you when someone’s words cut deeper than expected. How to keep the food down when the urge to feel lighter comes. How to float on freshwater in the spring time when the pollen seems to clog the flow of life. How to keep breathing. In and out. Over and over. In and out. Repeat.