I don't know why I cry. At least I don't feel dead. What you ask about a smile. Is that tears in your eyes? Can't predict the weather of this ocean inside. Never sure when's the encounter. A meteor in the sky. Is it the high that brings the low, or is the low that brings the tides? I don't trust it. My brain can't command. The spirit roams looking for an echo. A fleeting moment the universe's made for. No evidence. No reason. No witness, No future. No declaration. No following. It's lost till it appears, again. Before you recognize it. While you wait for it. Maybe prepared for it. It will be yours. Just for a moment. You're all its worth.
Author: hotsurf
Like to travel, read, play cello etc.
Possession.
I took you when you were young, and saw the world through your wonders. You ditched me when it became boring when I'm with you everything's easy. I watched you splitting into two. The warring drains your mind till you're blind of what should've been. It's not your fault. It's too much too fast. You are always alone looking for answers you've already known. You could, so you did. But you've been missing home. Older & wiser, thinking yourself a fool. It's OK. I knew you'd come this way. You love me, so, you had to throw me away. I'm still right here, the same everything. I understand you have to grow alone, finding your battles & healing your wounds, being tempted at every step to turn back. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am. Have you had your fun? Good. It's time to take possession.
When you die.
Thanks.
Strange fruit.
Woes to those that are born. Weeping as they're pulled from the womb. For what but a paradise lost? The spite for the vessel that bore the fruit. Already longing to go home.
Poor.
I am poor. Economically, emotionally, spiritually. Poor. Can't grow nothing but this tangled thorns. Omg, I can't believe that I exist on borrowed time, no less. Excuse me if I make a mess, I've always tried my best. But I can't tolerate myself, the reason I can't stand still: don't want to meet nobody that speaks like me moves like me thinks like me. Forgive me. I am poor.
Fuck you.
They taught me to always run & hide, just keeping the eyes on how to survive. Not to inspire to anything more than a wife. I remember the first time I had to lie to say a novel I was reading wasn't mine to save it from being teared apart because it's not on the final test. I thought I wasn't strong enough to completely tell them to fuck themselves. So instead I built this beautiful wall, and invested in multi-layered control. Yeh, ma & pa, thank you for preparing me for the "real" world.
Fill.
Wormy Apple.
Ways away.
Just when you are getting comfortable, you find out there's ways, ways & ways to go. Maybe it's the ego that's insatiable, always, always, always looking for something new. Maybe it's the curse of never having a home, or maybe I'm still a kid in the candy store. But please, please, please show me what is this all for.
