The spitting image of his father. Reversed into a silhouette. Fading away instead of burning out like the fire did years ago. Captured with a photograph. So you could remember. Matted and framed. Fitting like a black tie at a funeral. Solemn prayers. Eyes that whisper ” spread too thin, running with a broken leg, I can’t let you know that I am vulnerable.” Saint like white surrounding sea of windows to the soul that seem too tired for their age. Split seconds of memories projected like a slide show. Each one pointing back to home.
Love this skin
Intermittent voices. Choppy. Like static on a telephone. Running back and forth between the walls of this house. Outside they just spin circles and push farther into the atmosphere. Everyone is here to celebrate something. The house is most definitely warm, the air circulates between a set of lungs and gets spewed out back into the room, hungry, looking for a new pair to occupy. I can hear every conversation happening. They group together instead of standing in line and I let them bleed on each other. They sound better that way. An orchestra of social noise, bred to pave the way for simple minds and hearts alike to make conversational homes and feel safe. There is a sea of strange faces looking at me. I smile and look back, and then we connect through vibrations in the air between. I’m in a city filled with people that don’t know my name. I’m buried between a group of streets that I have never seen. I feel serene.
(Source: drumgifs)
My lungs were working overtime. Angry at the rest of my body for falling down during an anxiety attack. My skin was ready to fall apart from all the vibration, like an old car driving itself to the junk yard. My mind, was shifting it’s focus to a handful of things paying rent inside my head, but staying true to it’s priorities and coming full circle back to you. A hundred people in this room. Wish that you were here. If you only knew. Only you
They ran like fevers, gathering water to put the brush fire out. I watched from a mile away, on top a hill, wide eyed and curious. I just wanted to watch it burn. I wanted to feel the heat on my face. I wanted to fill my lungs with the acrid smoke that surrounded me. It felt cleansing. It was cleansing. The wind kept pushing the fire along the horizon, coaxing the fire to grow, like a pair of eyes opening in the morning. It crept closer to me. I stood there, chain smoking cigarettes. I could hear the trees cracking from the heat, like a bag of bones thrown against the wall. I started sweating, it was pulling the fever out of me. I laid down on some wet grass. My head kept spinning. I felt inebriated. My breaths, deeper and longer. An innocent serenity filled me, I just laid there, waiting for the fire to take me.
(Source: fuckjerry)
(Source: realtalkaixle)
