It is December now. 

The leaves of fall are gone; 

and so is my will to live. 

I am beginning to feel like I don’t belong here anymore. 

It’s so hard to wake up each day

I am begging for pity

and love

and muse. 

I crave it. Like never before. 

I need it. 

I need you to help me, Doctor

Doctor, you see, It is not easy to be me

Or she, or he.

 It is now September.

The alluring air is a blanket

Protecting you from the swine to come.

starcaptaincat:

I’ve been slipping a lot lately. Tripping into doorways I oughtn’t, falling into bad habits, bad crowds, again. I’m creeping into the cracks in my mind. 

It’s then, again.   

Then again, maybe it’s not. No, it’s now, but I saw now before it happened, remember I told you about it in that dream I had. It happened again. It’s happening now, and then.

It scares me, it feels like being torn in two, but you know me, I could split anytime. I’m always packing my bags for someone else, a little further down the road.

I want the rip, I want to trip, through the wall to the other side of me. Am I there now? Or was I dreaming of then, again.

(via twcpoetry)

in-my-thinking:

“a poet’s lament”

can truth
ever be learned
or is it just forever in our hearts
yearned

can life
ever be for living
or is it just our sins daily being
unforgiving

can love
ever be real
or is it just hopes and desires
concealed

can words
ever really describe
or are they just always a
diatribe

can poets
ever be content
or do they always write their
lament

(via writerscreed)

wnq-writers:

“I want movement, not a calm course of existence. I want excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I feel in myself a superabundance of energy which finds no outlet in our quiet life.”

— Leo Tolstoy, Family Happiness

(via wnq-writers)

thissometimepoet:

I Catch Loneliness Off Guard

I catch loneliness
off guard in my bedroom
when I enter at night
but it quickly relaxes
and offers me its arms
asking if I wouldn’t mind
reading it a story
from all the books around
or some nights a song
if the silence and space
are a little much
for both our nerves
since we are both
easily spooked
and too seldom enough
remembered.

(via thissometimepoet)

coral-vellichor:

“Dear Future Spouse, You know, I use to want to be an astronaut. I wanted to fly around in space and do something no one else has done. Adventure has always been an addiction I need out of life. I have striven to do the impossible, or do something no one else has done. Even if I lived a dull life, I was still with you, so, in reality, I haven’t lived a dull life at all. Marrying you was an adventure in itself, I think I should be called “The first woman to marry the most magnificent person in every galaxy”, instead of whatever people consider me now. I don’t know how you have handled me. I’m honestly such a contradiction and such a bitch. I really thought my life would be lonely since I care more about my job and money than most things. I guess caring for someone so royal as yourself is a job on its own. Thank you for dealing with the petty arguments I love to have. Thank you for standing by my side no matter how I feel. Thank you for being my sun. I guess I did become an astronaut. I lived an adventure. I fell in love among the darkness, once I could see with a marvelous sun guiding me. Yet, though your tolerance and light are eternal, I am not. Maybe it’s a good thing I will not be here tomorrow. Maybe I was holding you back, or creating something bad in this already so dark world. No matter how I have affected this world or how my death will affect it, please think of it as another adventure. Another star that is undiscovered or another planet that needs its secrets revealed. I swear, my darling, I will not go gently into that good night. Please, swear to me, my love, my sun, my royalty, my greatest achievement, my most spectacular adventure, please do not fade like a dying light. Love, 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓪𝓮𝓪”

—

coral-vellichor

A prompt in 9th grade

“In the event, you were about to die, write a letter to someone”

(via livinginapaperworld)

schuylerpeck:

I throw my blanket out on the fading green grass; lay down and stretch out each limb as far as they can reach. The sky and I are different kinds of empty. She is the type of carefree where nothing can keep her, and I am the type of crumbling the wind is too scared to touch. But I know few things grow in the dark, so here goes nothing.

Schuyler Peck, Touching Sunlight

(via daisylongmile)