In a situation so normal its painfully mundane
clues to the answer I’ve got, already have made quite plain
as if frustration’s not enough to drive me insane
Why has it gone then, you twit, where is my damned brain?!
The light drizzle in the evening touched my cheeks in a kiss
like how you do, my dear
when life goes amiss.
I had stepped light to the tune of the glad silver lining,
on this cool blue day
I could feel Christmas was coming.
I heard your lovely voice singing of I growing older,
I knew in acceptance and love
this year had left me much warmer.
The hope and the laughs, the dreams yet to become,
I’m building my wings
I’m flying into the sun.
'Have I wasted the days I've been given?'
Circling the mind like a vulture in my lifelong sphere,
I can’t tell if good motivation or consequential fear.
Traveling is the deservingly expected box in everyone’s bucket list.
It is a significant component in my mind that ties in with having a fuller life. When I regularly reevaluate how I’ve been living, I (metaphorically) stick a needle in my thigh for the countries I have yet to explore. I count the money I could’ve traveled with, but instead placed in the ‘wrong’ projects. In every experience, did I gain enough to offset the monetary value? Each day I’m old enough to see more, there is the prick of a needle because I haven’t quite yet.
Then I compare, a habit that always leaves a sick aftertaste. I have an idea of what I’d love to do, knowing this I feel obligated to begin. She’s younger and he’s there, I maybe could have done more too if I’d figured it out a little earlier, dug a little deeper. Yet, I hold back for reasons that are good and understandable, but it remains a task feeling sure whether the validity still holds.
I try to drink in every bit of Christmas spirit I can find in this country, though its getting increasingly difficult to harvest anything genuine from the abundance of commercial intentions. Nothing irks me like ‘HITACHI’ glaring underneath every set of Christmas lights.
Studying is great when information is smoothly understood. As an added bonus too, now that I’ve been practicing, my handwriting significantly easier to read! Now to actually understand the questions I have to answer…..
— J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (via aurelle)
The weathered hand dusted it’s webs and shone it’s way through,
Lighting paths with an asked for, but now hurting, glare.
Shards of ice melted through the ‘healed with time’ heart,
now leaks out of the eyelids- as tears.
Foreboding stirred by a painful past
Circles painfully with the vulture’s call.
I’m grinning on a constantly rocking chair, waiting
for life’s branches to grow (alongside my own)
strong enough to choose, leap, and climb.
A tinge of yearn to a place I’ve never physically been,
counts no credit, just baseless longing within.
Why leave, home here makes a stable friend- but
the bud that won’t bloom feels sick in my gut.
My answer, the truth is an emotional drawn to,
but sweet logic, that just isn’t sufficient for you.
A heart of melancholy sits dreadfully still,
mind a swirl with the turns we take and live by.
A love song coaxes the weak throat to sing
but is dimly constricted, and sad.