“Sometimes you tell someone to never call you again and then the phone rings and you hope it’s them. It’s the most twisted logic of all time.”
— John Mayer
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@wabistroubledmind
“Sometimes you tell someone to never call you again and then the phone rings and you hope it’s them. It’s the most twisted logic of all time.”
— John Mayer

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avoid you
i love you, i do
even though i don´t tell you anymore
even though you might not remember
i know it seems like i don´t
because i stopped wishing you happy birthdays
and i cross the street to avoid you when i see you
before you see me
it´s strange, i know
but i love you, i do
even though i never told you
even though you never knew
i loved you
when georges bataille wrote, “no greater desire exists than a wounded person’s need for another wound” & when gillian flynn wrote, “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort” & when ocean vuong wrote, “sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined” & when lisa m. basile wrote, “did you inherit a sickness? did you blame god? do you believe in god? do you believe in yourself? are you still on fire? did you ever put out the fire?” & when stephen a. guirgis wrote, “why didn't you make me good enough so that you could’ve loved me?”
*
ada limón, lucky wreck
slowtember // wind
poetry truly is the most painful & lifesaving of all art forms. like open-heart surgery
i can confirm that writing pretentious stuff about my parents divorce and being gay got me through some dark times

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To feel pt.2
To live without feeling is not to live at all. Yes, they say that and yes, in some ways, I believe too. However, I also believe this a perfect ¨do as I say, not as I do¨ situation because, of course, we all know how vital feelings are, and yet we hide them. What for, really? Shame? Embarrassment? Aren´t those feelings as well?
I´m a hypocrite, of course, for I too live my life with my feelings locked inside a vault which keys have been lost far, far long ago. I claim to feel so much I´ve plead to God for a way out for; ´´in any moment, I could explode´´. Truly it does feel that way but it never does come out. For I claim to live my life to the fullest yet I hide my sadness, my fears, my anger, my love.
How full could that life be if one is constantly hiding the most important parts away? How fullfilled could one´s life be if it´s embarrassed by joy? Ashamed of tears? What is the purpose of hiding that which makes us human? Hiding the only one thing all of us have in common? What is the purpose of lighting a fire if not to watch it all burn? Dissipate the smoke, sweep the ashes, swallow the coughs, pretend that to breathe is not a priority. Pretend that to feel is not a priority. We all do it anyway.
with the summer the sun it’s not only thing that comes back and stays longer that I’d like, with the sun comes the moon that leaves just a little bit too soon. and when she leaves is when I see, just in between her and the radiant star, that I found a reflection of my little self back.
if only she was like the moon; cold, beautiful, solitary.
but she looks more like the sun; angry, burning, yelling.
can someone fucking linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. can someone fucking forget their scarf in my life & come back later for it. please
Kiyoshi Kurosawa
- Charisma
1999
Question
My mom often asks me why I don’t speak to her anymore, my friends wonder when I’ve become so quiet my sister doesn’t say anything but she gives the knowing look, waiting for me to tell her myself, my dad doesn’t bother
I don’t know, I don’t know how nor why But I feel as though…I feel as if dare I speak about it, as if dare I put it into word, dare I make it real The storm that’s been whaling inside me will destroy every dam I’ve built to protect my relationship from the never ending anguish river that flows within my veins
No raft nor arc will be sufficient to save the years and years of pretending I’ve managed to keep safe on the lands of my mind
No rainbow will be send over to those affected, promising it’ll never happen again, ringing sorrows and forgiveness. They won’t believe it, they know not too. They won’t pray to me, they pray for me, they won’t.
Instead they'll learn their lesson as not to ever quedtion the silent one when not prepared to deal with what may they spill. And not to trust the one meant to protect them –never did I put myself willingly in that position–, learned not to question the one they don’t understand and realize, oh realize, they must only wonder, and admire, and look in aw, but never, not once, question.

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God, don´t ask me
Don’t ask me about my sorrows, God, for my sorrows are not with my parents Or my siblings Or any family at all
My sorrows are at this world That can not be trusted nor loved With this world that hurts the earth as if she wasn’t our own
So, God, if the earth asked me to give her a piece of me If she held my hand and said I just need a bit to heal, child. A nail, a hair, a tear.
I’d carve my heart out and plant it like a seed I’d be careful not to befoul her feet I’d look at her and say Take as long as need for your feet to never bleed again
Because, God, I adore her And I trust her and I love her And I don’t forgive you for letting her be hurt
To feel
I know, I know, I understand. That to live without feeling is not to live at all. But God, dear God if you can hear me, do you how difficult it is to live when you feel it all? Did you intend this? Was this in your plan? Do you feel this too?
Jazmín
En el patio de mi casa
había una chica de ojos marrones
mirando los jazmines
intentó sostener el mundo en sus manos,
lo amó con tanta fuerza que olvidó su frágil naturaleza
Lloró con los pétalos en el suelo
y yo no pude ignorar su tristeza
Le ofrecí volverlos a plantar, juntas,
ellas los vio florecer de nuevo y yo solo podía verla a ella
idling angel
Dios, no me preguntes
Dios, no me preguntes
No me preguntes por mis penas, Dios, porque mis penas no son con mis padres O mis hermanos O cualquier familia en absoluto
Mis penas son con este mundo En el cual no se puede confiar, ni amar Con este mundo que hiere a la tierra como si no fuera nuestra Llenándola de basura y mentiras, cargándola con lo que ellos mismos no quieren cargar
Por eso, Dios, si la tierra me pidiera que le diera un pedazo de mí Si ella tomara mi mano y dijera “Solo necesito un poco para sanar, niña. Un clavo, un pelo, una lágrima.”
Arrancaría mi corazón y lo plantaría como una semilla en su tierra Tendría cuidado de no ensuciar sus pies, de no enredar su cabello La miraría y diría Tómese el tiempo que sea necesario para que sus pies nunca vuelvan a sangrar
Porque yo, Dios, la adoro Y confío en ella y la amo Y jamás te perdonaré por quitarle su paz

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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God, don´t ask me
Don’t ask me about my sorrows, God, for my sorrows are not with my parents Or my siblings Or any family at all
My sorrows are at this world That can not be trusted nor loved With this world that hurts the earth as if she wasn’t our own
So, God, if the earth asked me to give her a piece of me If she held my hand and said I just need a bit to heal, child. A nail, a hair, a tear.
I’d carve my heart out and plant it like a seed I’d be careful not to befoul her feet I’d look at her and say Take as long as need for your feet to never bleed again
Because, God, I adore her And I trust her and I love her And I don’t forgive you for letting her be hurt
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