The cities draped in camouflage.
Anti art assasination..
An automatic appetite addressing apologetic assumptions.
Angelic awakenings are alive, active, animated, aware...artistic artificial accidents are accepted.
Apparently amplified abilities awaken addictive alphabetical ambitions. Accumulated, alienated adjectives arouse anxious amatures.
Avoid Aquantiances awaiting answers.
Abused, accused, allergic around ashtray actors.. an admireror around aura adjustments.
AFIRMATIVE.
Attention all acid aiming accusations ...announcing another aquired agenda?
Awaiting authentically.
An Artist.
Paintbrush Portraits by Rebecca Szeto
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until my lungs ache for air
like they did when you left me
I want to feel something again
because sitting here, not feeling anything at all,
is like I’m engulfed in smoke that leaves me feeling numb
I want to scream
until I can’t remember what it feels like to feel nothing at all
I want pain to replace this emptiness
because at least the pain will remind me of you
because right now I can’t even recall what it felt like to have you wrapped in my arms, or the way your voice sounds when you are anxious
but oh my god anything has to be better than this
(via feedingthefeeling)
Last night was the first sober night in 2 years I’ve been able to lay in silence.
Stare at my dresser handle and not feel the pain of imagining your hand opening it grabbing your shirt for me to wear.
The first time I’ve fully felt how stiff my bullitenboard back felt and saw myself in the mirror. I felt the release of built up blood howling out of my heart.
I think.
The older I get…..
The older I get….
The older I get saying it all makes sense does not make sense to me.
Don’t stop moving.
I can still feel the dirt you would track in on the soles of my tired feet.
I will not take a bath with her toys occupying space I feel like I do not deserve.
Maybe if I tried as hard as I do now with you back then my brain wouldn’t brew and chew up every fucking chance of new
The make up I do not wear is covering up lucid, dreamless circles of metaphors and poems I do not share. Cause why the hell would you care?
Tonight is the first night I will not have a television on for background noise.
I will not subconsciously connect all the holes in my wall from tacts of love letters from other boys and spell out your name because I am the one who needed to grow.
I will sleep alone.
with a hand, a body
but also with words.
