music books coffee wine poetry literature guitars fastidiousness wit brevity.
He is stark mad, whoever says,
That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
But that it can ten in less space devour ;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year?
Who would not laugh at me, if I should say
I saw a flash of powder burn a day?
Ah, what a trifle is a heart,
If once into love’s hands it come !
All other griefs allow a part
To other griefs, and ask themselves but some ;
They come to us, but us love draws ;
He swallows us and never chaws ;
By him, as by chain’d shot, whole ranks do die ;
He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.
If ’twere not so, what did become
Of my heart when I first saw thee?
I brought a heart into the room,
But from the room I carried none with me.
If it had gone to thee, I know
Mine would have taught thine heart to show
More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !
At one first blow did shiver it as glass.
Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite ;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
Those pieces still, though they be not unite ;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no more.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
In the moment i am done with life, my day is the same as me, I, collapsed in the seated position, slumped on my left side while my subconscious mind endeavors to awaken my conscious self. My heart, vigorously pumping for causes I was never aware of. The scent of tobacco, I would imagine mentally, kept calling me. My oxytocin level arose like the box telling me the content would kill me was just a fancy aphrodisiac. In a flicker of a minute, without a flinch the butt was placed in between the lips of mine and was lit in haste. The taste, well it was hate, violation, suicide and a lucky touch on some breasts. A missed bus and bruises from those bastards in a rush to make more money. It tasted of the non-existent utterance of my mother asking “what did you get up to at school today honey?”
Must be aesthetically appealing.
To yourself and I.
I’m not going to analyse the body
That would make me cringe.
But you must be stunning.
Even more so without product on.
Tolerant to the strumming of a guitar…
Which can vary from midnight to dawn.
And partial to breakfast before teeth brushing in the early morn’
Must enjoy intellectual conversations
Games of scrabble and chess
Like ordering chicken and laughing while asking for the best of thighs and breasts
Dress sense of anything
Green shorts, a gold shirt and a red hat
If that makes you feel comfortable
Must be brave because I know for certain that I am not.
Know how to work an AC because I don’t, i refuse to learn and I’m always hot
Like a few bands,
Arctic Monkeys to name a few
And know that I will never tell you to your face that I love you.
I am self-conscious.
I’ve slept with the light on for as long as I can remember because I’m scared of the dark
I’m also scared that you might hate me because of my blunt remarks
And all black clothing choices
And my love for poetry, literature and modern art.
I’d never cry in front of anyone
I mean could you imagine my unfortunate face added with salty tears
And a dripping sinus ?
I tend to ramble on
To friends I’m close with
And the people I love
My vocabulary becomes…
More extensive then I already know of
I don’t like to hug.
But when my emotions take over
That’s all I seem to want
I don’t like hand holding
Because my hands always shake
My palms get sweaty in reaction to unfamiliar emotions
I am an incompetent complication
All I want is pizza and dandelions from the park on valentines day,
To hold me when I cry even though I resist,
fight back when I do
Until I give in
Then maybe, just maybe ill say:
“I love you”
What happened to us
We were close
Now all we do is say we are
A sardonic tone you may read this in
Its true; its negative. Buried in sin.
Your presence has become obtrusive.
I detest it.
I look at you in scrutiny
As you describe
Your love for him and not me.
Originally posted on Confessions of an adolescent:
Swim Deep. ~
Swim Deep were one of the acts that had supported Two Door Cinema club at the O2.
If I am honest, I have never been fond of Swim Deep. Their music did not intrigue me and only at rare occasions, would I sing along to ‘King City’ with my best friend (who is clearly in love with the band.)
Beat me black and blue
Ill tell you that I love you
Pin me down and though I struggle
And I fucking love you
Cook me breakfast in bed
I detest it
Serve me your cold heart on a platter instead
Throw me across an empty room
Leave me there bleeding
And never come back anytime soon
Don’t show me affection or love
Don’t hold my hand in public
Or in private
Chain me to a wall and do your worst
Just try and make me look worse
Than when I look in the mirror
With my finger on the trigger
Trying to decipher,
Why my face and body are like this.
Living like this
Is watching people around you
Laughing, joking, breathing
When you’re stuck in a bubble
You’re in a zone by yourself
You find you’re happy; content
Then society appears,
You don’t know what to do next
Panicking, gasping, screaming for breath
Looking for a safe outlet.
But your face is tranquil
And the worst part is,
after having the feeling of something wanting to burst out you’re chest,
People think you’re okay
Because smiling is the only way
That you can stay normal.
letting the people inside of me,
out to play
Letting the voices in my head,
have their say.