Treat your ears right. Listen to this album.
Good Morning
One day I woke to find I was no longer dreaming
of a recognizable past.
Faces were blurred into laughs,
smiles into last glances - finger tips
barely grazing along the door knobs that led outside.
And all at once I knew that life had moved on,
people had become persons
and I was just waking up.
1 week ago - 
1
1 I looked to you.
It dawned on me not quickly,
but gradual as it should.
Acknowledgment,
understanding and a bit of anxiety -
seeing through the layers of fine threaded
lies you told yourself, and others.
About what you wanted, who you are.
I can see myself in you. A scared creature
luring in influences
and locking up futures.
Desperate for a safe bet.
Seeking constant reassurance that this
path, this road has an end.
But as I grow older and these
moons and suns circle inwards and around,
I am finding the reason you are scared
is because the is no such thing.
And it is more alright to sit with fear,
than to run passionless through the
wet, unforgiving night.
2 weeks ago - 3
3 22
Last night closed eyelids
led to dreams about today.
The first of the month
the very beginning of May.
Back two decades ago,
then add a few days,
I first opened my eyes,
in a building by the bay.
Never expecting to be here
not still, not this way,
I promised to make changes,
persistently moving - this is the way.
1 month ago - 1
1 
(via letmehearyousay10)
101
How can one live off of hope for so long,
it tastes of bitter roots and ashes.
It makes me yearn for long, newly tarred highways
with yellow and white dashes not yet driven upon.
No skid marks to forewarn me -
no smiling billboards to engage.
Just an open road of fresh beginnings -
nothing lost, nothing to save.
1 month ago - 1
1 
conradroset
Is this the dead end?
Your love feels like a dull nail,
being drug across my un-sanded
wooden desk - full of papers,
about boys I once loved - when I was young.
And I can already feel new friends fading,
with each thought that trips through
the vine filled jungle floor of my mind.
People and things once cherished in
a shared space - vanish before our eyes
with a single status update.
1 month ago - 2
2 Walk backwards
Silky subtle moments that slip through slivers,
increasing episodes of intelligent insight,
revolutionary reflections on renegade routines,
enhancing, enticing, entrancing eternal-
memories of maybe, might of, and most certainly.
Wishing for once, that when poetry is put to pictures,
the foggy feelings can fight through the facade
of not ever having been there at all.
1 month ago - 1
1 
(Source: consoulation, via mushroomtree)
(Source: shoulderblades, via toujoursjeu-ne)
(via fuckyeahyoga)
