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Showing posts from June, 2014

what I'm doing

I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm a college student. I get average grades. I take an antidepressant because I get depressed. I have rollercoaster emotions and attachment issues. I like to watch videos on Youtube and have conversations with characters.
But that's all who I am.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I guess I know that I'm distancing myself from the people I wish could be closer to me. I go to bed late and feel tired all day. I take walks by myself and  write poetry and draw, but these things are not what I'm doing. They're just who I am.
What am I doing?
I'm not an illiterate, confused buffoon. But I don't know what I'm doing.

Made of Sand

We are the wild, we are the untamed We move in circles, we collect names
We are the broken, we are the burning We are the empty, we are still learning
To put one foot in front of the other To look farther than the tip of our noses To aim higher than where our eyes meet
Everybody out there is competition In breaking tradition We have to run if we want to get first
We are the simple, we are the curious We are the seeking, but not serious
We are the restless, we feel so alone We want to be people, but not on our own
Taking one step, then take another We still mistrust our brothers In every handshake there is a war
So everybody starts smoking But then everybody starts choking Everybody is fallen on the floor
We are still growing, we are naïve We are uncharted, just learned to breathe
We are the soldiers, we are so afraid We don't know what lies beyond the grave
And all the people huddle in fear And try to find something worth living for They find it anywhere, they find it in anything
We find the truth in the se…

Touch

A fingertip. Just that, no more. An inch expanse from knee to knee. A spark, a warmth, a pulse of strawberry blood. A vision. Oceans and emptiness, skies of endless, enduring blue. Shoulders and thighs. Hands entwined. Fingertips, fearless.