I remember when I found love at the bottom of the sea. Fresh cuts from shells innocently scattered across the sand, rooted deep beneath where my little toes scampered when the tide came creeping in. I lay myself down beneath waves bigger than myself so that I can be reminded of how small I am.
And how big i will be one day. I am going to touch every inch of this world with my fingertips, kissing the shores with salty lips. I will see your islands, your castles, your majestic lands that stay hidden from me, and I will let the moon guide me through night to your feet as you stand on the shore, so that I can feel my one last touch of humanity as I lay to rest in my black liquid grave.
It’s only the nights like tonight when i am laying in bed, with every last bit of my body’s energy leaking out onto the floor, making pools of electricity, that my mind weakly motions forward to thoughts it wasn’t done thinking earlier when i deliberately decided “enough was enough” and i rid you from my brain, that i remember the feeling of you and me, of me and you, of you tearing my dress off with those rough hands, pinning me down harder into the soft cushions of your bed, and all i could think was “how can i keep this?”. and all i could think was “how can i make it last?” as you kept my breathing quick and easy and my voice made those ample sighs that were enough to make the whole house feel like we weren’t alone but rather we were the ones-alone-that really mattered and could make all the passion in the world right here in this bed
and then as i drove away from your house with the music blaring and my windows down, a lit cigarette in my hand keeping me from trembling too much, the steering wheel hot from the gripping of my fists as i could only let all my inhibitions trail out the windows with that smoke because i knew as i left your driveway i’d never come back but at least you gave my body something to remember you by
“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.”—Oscar Wilde
I would give the greatest sunset in the world for one sight of New York’s skyline. Particularly when one can’t see the details. Just the shapes. The shapes and the thought that made them. The sky over New York and the will of man made visible. What other religion do we need? And then people tell me about pilgrimages to some dank pesthole in a jungle where they go to do homage to a crumbling temple, to a leering stone monster with a pot belly, created by some leprous savage. Is it beauty and genius they want to see? Do they seek a sense of the sublime? Let them come to New York, stand on the shore of the Hudson, look and kneel. When I see the city from my window - no, I don’t feel how small I am - but I feel that if a war came to threaten this, I would throw myself into space, over the city, and protect these buildings with my body.
“ Awkward moments define me. I’d sleep all day if I could. I lack the capability to keep my mouth shut. Yeah, everyone has bad days, but I seem to have more than my fair share. If you don’t like me, don’t act like you do. I swear, it offends me less. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve let people take advantage of me and I’ve accepted way less than I deserve. But, I’ve learned from my bad choices and even though there are some things I can never get back, and people who will never be sorry, I’ll know better next time and I won’t settle for anything less than I deserve”—en·do·sym·bi·ot·ic
“Wake up. Get out of bed and stop hiding under the duvet, no matter how warm it is. You will get nothing accomplished. Put some clothes on. Wear the red tights with the mustard yellow shoes. Arrange the 3 day old curls in your hair. Do something nice for yourself today. Get pretty for absolutely no reason other than to prove to yourself that you’re not worthless and sloven. Go to your favorite record store and listen to the old man’s playlist that usually consists of Howlin’ Wolf and strange 60s Middle Eastern music. Buy yourself your favorite garlic and tomato burrito, and make sure you get extra guacamole. Drive past Emily Dickinson’s house and imagine the lack of life she had. Spend the extra money on your favorite art magazine and plan a trip to Sweden in your head. Sing your favorite songs in your car. Make a pit stop to the reservoir. Collect the last leaves from autumn. Watch the sun sink into the horizon.Don’t stare at your phone and wait for it to vibrate. Don’t mope. Don’t think about the only men in your life that have belittled you this week. Don’t sit. Don’t wait. Don’t look at the time that you’ve always set to three hours behind. Don’t delay your life even though someone has attempted to delay yours.”—en·do·sym·bi·ot·ic