56. Blindfire

I have no goals,
No ambitions,
At least any that I'm aware of.

I have no aim.
No mark to hit.
Just blindly shooting.

I don't know where this discontent comes from.
I just feel out of place,
Out of sync with my own integrity.

Walking day by day,
Letting each breath go away,
Without much to say.

Everything is just so faint.
I can't put my finger on anything
Without it going astray.

I just want someone by my side,
So I'm not ridden with the anxiety
Of being a waste of space.

I'm not sure if anyone can play the part
Of filling the hole in my heart.
Someone who sees me as a work of art.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

N1. Twin-Tail

  PROLOGUE I. FOLKLORE II. GIANT WALKERS III. WHYTE RAIN CLOUDS IV. WHISPERING LIPS V. KILLING A GOD VI. CATHING THE EYE VII. TWIN-TAILS VIII. RUMOR-MILL IX. RESTITUTION X. AN ISLAND UNTO ONESELF XI. HEAVEN'S GREEN LAKE XII. RUBY'S RESOLVE XIII. LOVER'S LIME XIV. PREDISPOSITION XV. PROOF OF ROYAL BLOOD XVI. HEAVENLY XVII. FEATHERLESS WINGS XVIII. HIGHER FORCE XIX. RUBY WHYTE EPILOGUE
Read more

161. Picnic For You

All that can be heard are pots and pans chatter, Interrupted when my nose catches a "h-achoo." You return, teeth trapped with one another. They tap out a message with every tick. You let my fingers prance around your shoulder, My hands held in yours without a mutter. A nod melts into a kiss, tattooed by your lipstick. Your bite becomes a nibble by my words, "For you and I, I made sure to plan." One look at the picnic basket and you knew, "To plant my garden of smiles from you." Never a moment without haste, My apple already admired for its taste. Grown from the soil of you and I, Kissable chuckles plucked when ripe. I'm made a pillow at our nest. Before I realized it, I am in her plight. My touch silks through her hair, They drop like rain on a soft night. My heart a warming lantern, Leading your gaze to my mirror, My eyes reflect my world, you learn. You sing our favorite song for sure,  "I'm sure to love you forevermore." You're in ...
Read more

155. Clean-up Day!

Do I embrace being the calm your head may rest against, or the dork that speaks to the beat of your heart? If I have no voice to hear in the first place, does the me called upon matter? Agency only comes when I allow myself to be. Even if another pair of footsteps were to clement beside me, accountability is standing on my own two feet. Why wait for the perfect person, when I can treat myself the way I wish to be with you? I could carve my own growth. Spend time in the kitchen to prep for me. I'll get to the point where I cut out what doesn't satisfy my cravings. Letting the seasons come to flavor the day afresh. I'll heat things until excitement boils, but won't forget a slow burn savored. I plant myself in a garden of wishes. But I know La La Land will only keep ideas dancing. I rose to the challenge of weeding out unfertile ground. Let my hands bathe in Mother Nature to grow you a bed of flowers. I'm soothed by the shade of the tree I water. Oh, won't you loo...
Read more