poster child, pose for your picture, comb your hair this way, stretch your arm that way, eat your daily nothing and cry invisible tears because poster children cant be sad, poster children are the face of the future and the future must be bright but the poster child cannot live i the present, they cant breathe anyway
Sunlight dances on her face and the shade fights for her attention, the concrete lifts into a smile when she delights it with every delicate step, she breaths out the sensation of eating ice-cream in the summer and she breaths in the wounds and the scars of everyone around her. Smile bright but her eyes are faded to grey, skin flawless but her cheeks have hollowed inwards, her footsteps grow heavy as the ground shakes beneath her, the shadows creep up her neck as the pavement drags her to the ground. Enduring the agony of breathing in took away the sunlights daughter to the shadows
rhythmically, the tap dripped and the sewing machine whirred as he clinked on the edge of the glass while stirring the liquid.like clockwork, he heard a nervous tapping on the green arched door.cool air rushed into the room causing the chain on his pocket watch to swing gently.
sliding down her hood, she revealed to him her long tendrils of golden curls which were arranged perfectly to frame her angelic face. exchanging a small smile, he stepped aside, inviting her inside.
watching intently, she noticed how the grooves that had been dug into his forehead over the years resembled crop rows.his worn hand reached out for hers and the warmth of his palm settled the cold of her fingers and together, they found balance
arent we all just patterns in the same picture, a child with a green crayon waiting for his dad to come home, a boy on a sofa doodling while the man with his clipboard tries to save his sanity, a man lying on concrete scratching pictures between metal bars, a disgrace contained in padding creating patterns of us in his head screaming for his dad who never came back
i was asked to write a sentence. A true sentence. A sentence that i am entirely sure is true. The truest sentence i could think of. it took me a while for i am unsure about most. But there is something that is true. truer that you. however i cannot use words to describe it for it is a feeling and no, i'm not talking about love and all that bullshit, im talking about the feeling when everything goes quiet, your lungs feel as though they have collapsed, every muscle tenses and in that blissful moment you feel as if you are invincible. it is the truest feeling i have ever felt. i know it is true because if that feeling was not true i wouldve given up pursuing it long ago for you see, everything is only as true as you believe it to be
the pendulum swung, the cockroaches scuttled and he thought. He thought of all his fingers. Each one tapping against his emaciated calf. his long unruly hair scratched the discs of his spine which were protruding from the ghostly flesh. whispering to him, the cockroaches told him of sunlight and of food. he did not understand. He did not understand much for one cannot know much if they have never left the boundaries in which one is born into. Deprived of experience and therefor wisdom, the most intelligent being rotted away beneath silky cobwebs
i swear the mirrors are changing. They contort my figure, they persuade my frown. Swirling through the reflective surface. Rising from the bleak night, the sun appeared that morning and my face glowed yellow, lips stretched up my cheeks and long black eyelashes tickling my pink eyelids. Now sat beside the mirror, my lips stretch down my cheeks, my face is pale and sickly, short eyelashes in clumpy mascara which smeared over my eyelids glistening on the purple bruises. Its the same day, i have not touched my face, yet it appears different. Im hiding from them, the mirrors, they trick me, they change me
your clean short hair, your brown warm eyes, your caring smile, our empty promises drift around us, the pinks and yellows woven into the sky we sit under, the glittering lake in which our feet drip into, the soft humming of music delights our ears, you hand upon mine as you prop yourself up on one knee and ask me to take your name, the perfect person, in the perfect moment but that's a moment meant for someone else, i don't want perfect, i don't want beautiful. You'll never understand that i want the apartment without heating, the mould scuttling up the ceiling, the broken light dangling down engulfed in glittering spiderwebs, the stick man drawings on the walls, your tired arms scattered with scars and traces of acne draped around my waist, the freckles littering your skin like the constellations in the night, your dark unruly hair that sticks up at the back sometimes, your honest smile, your promise to never promise, your exposed thoughts holding mine. i want to love and be loved in the rotting corner of the world
Round and round racing against eachother, fighting for the attention, the music gets louder as they go round the caresole, I am overwhelmed by fatigue but I cannot get off, the thoughts won't stop racing infecting my mind changing who I am, I have to choose but the choice is no longer mine, I can't stop what I have started, I won't stop it
her wish upon a shooting star, her secret thought as she blew out the candles, her prayers in the bleak nights were all for him, he saw that same shooting star and shut his eyes tight, he wished harder than ever before for you see unlike her, he had already fallen in love alongside someone, he had already felt the touch one desires, he had already done what she wishes for and that is why on that shooting star he wished for it to end
its not just the people who can make you laugh or smile, its the, people who can let you cry. If a person can break down your walls enough for your emotions to come out, your true emotions then you know that person makes you feel comfortable, loved and valued, if you cant cry on there shoulder, and you cant let your emotions out honestly then they aren't family
we're the young, self conscious, fucked up youth. We care about how people see us, are we funny enough, pretty enough,smart enough, rich enough, talented enough. We get so caught up in trying to be the perfect person, we forget to ask are we happy enough because lets face it no ones figured out the 'meaning of life' so why should we care about all that crap, why should we spend our lives stressing over every little detail, picking apart all our faults, did you ever consider that to some people your faults aren't faults at all, so stop listening to the voices in your head, listen to your heart, stop caring about things that really don't matter at all, let your hair down before it turns grey, go enjoy the little things, make the most of what you've got, and do whatever the hell you want
i looked up at the sky he created, it was ugly, it was dull, it was grey but it was honest. i gathered my paints and my brushes and began painting over it, i swirled the colours over the sky i covered every inch of it in vibrant pinks and oranges hoping to make the sky more beautiful. i was proud of the work i had done and tired so i decided to go to sleep. Opening my eyes the next morning, i looked up at the sky i saw the ugly dull yet honest scene i saw the day before so i gathered my paints and brushes and painted again but despite how hard i tried, the next day my art would be washed away. i guess you cant cover up the truth forever