Fuck anyone that makes you feel like less of an artist for making the art you want to make.
Writing is like everything else: the more you do it the better you get. Don’t try to perfect as you go along, just get to the end of the damn thing. Accept imperfections. Get it finished and then you can go back. If you try to polish every sentence there’s a chance you’ll never get past the first chapter.
She’s like smoke: you think you’re seeing her clearly enough, but when you reach for her there’s nothing there.
Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.
If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life.
A love unspoken
Leads to broken hearts and dreams
Don’t be that person
Pacified by the night’s symphony,
the swollen storm
shrinks to a pale amethyst.
Floating into the dream,
where living is earned
by the goodness of our being.
A midnight run
With a dash of sunset blues.
Ride the straight desert road for fun.
The headlights alter our hues.
It may have been the spirit we had,
Whispering secrets as it fell down our throats.
The morning hours became the evening minutes,
While the road ahead told us it was made for boats.
We sank effortlessly in the rusty car.
Did the spirit’s soft words matter then? Nay.
The colors from afar are polluted.
Everything fades to gray.
An Exhibition of Thieves of Pieces or: The Dangers of Having No Glass Covers
Part shattered windows.
Part unhinged door.
A Gallery of Thieves,
dusty and untouched.
of each piece stolen,
one articulate plan at a time.
I left to reclaim these treasures,
retrieving them all except for one.
They shall keep it.
Let them be known
as the one who got away.
As Time Goes By
I choose to hurt myself
and love what I can’t have.
Pain brought clarity.
There’s always someone out there
worth loving more
All I can give in return
is a tortured mind.
The sense of hopeless ventures
and bitter-sweet photographs
of you wearing my stained
shirt with the hole on the sleeve.
Each photo, you smiled a little less.
Being around such an irreparable being
and no one is lost enough
Haven’t written in a few days as you can see. Being completely out of it combined with a decimated sleep schedule does that for you. I just woke up at least two hours ago. 10pm at night. Yeah…
Whenever I get out of this funk and get back onto my newly planned routine, you guys can expect the usual consistent content posts.
Hope everyone is having a good night!
A dancer died tonight
With the elegance of rain.
Patterns and purpose absent,
Until clouds cried no more.
Collected in eternal rivers.
Flowing through the winding path,
becoming one with the sea.
Boring Days at the Flawless Cemetery
Neglected graves Unworthy of robbers. The headstones plain. A metal keeper who finds shame in its duty. A plaque reads: Here lie the unfortunate, Cursed with perfection. Lead uninteresting lives And left us with nothing of value