do you follow the blog i actually post on?

"I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not touch you
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
As all things are filled with my soul
You emerge from the things
Filled with my soul
You are like my soul
A butterfly of dream
And you are like the word: Melancholy."

- Pablo Neruda, “I Like For You To Be Still” (via langste)

(Source: atomiclanterns)

"Learning does not make one learned: there are those who have knowledge and those who have understanding. The first requires memory and the second philosophy."

- Alexandre Dumas

i’ve been denying you tumblr i apologize

i’ve bitten all my nails to the core
the roots of my hair grow in greasy
the lights in the room alienate my eyes
my skin is yellow-gray
with patterned wrinkles
like ugly roots in the dirt

it’s the night that daunts me
staring straight into light bulbs
seeing swirling technicolor in a
hurry - i’m sorry
it’s the next left before nowhere, sir

i pick at my skin with broken nails
dead shell falls onto my pillows
i swallow them when i want to cry
because the blue pills they gave me
don’t work on an empty body

i thought it was okay
i thought it was okay
i thought it was okay

when i daydream about what-could-be
i keep my mouth wide open
so flies can eclipse my throat
so wasps can burrow between my jaws
so crows can squawk between the
gulps and the swallows
of what-could-be

i walk and talk
so the world is a constant blur
because i don’t want anything to stand still
i don’t want a second of what is
no, i don’t have a moment to give
to the horned beast that sits under the covers

it waits all day
under the covers
until my eyes droop
and my mouth drools
but i don’t let it fool me
sleep is for the living

i bite everything now
because i’m not sure what is real
and what is fantasized

i’m stuck in a thick skull

i throw blankets over my bones
too keep still, still, still
i twitch and play with my fingers
to procrasinate during that time
between twilight and daybreak

i was always told to dream big
but nobody ever told me what happens
when dreams become too large
they rotten and shrivel into golden ashes
i don’t know whether to bury them
or forgive them

i buried my books last night
in the cemetery next to the drug store
i put wilting wildflowers to mark a
dead, once natural time of flesh and spring 

i went back home
waited for the mechanics to sleep
and grinned in the dark

a thousand years old,
i burned my skin in haste
i don’t want to live in it
send my ashes tied to the wings
of birds 

vivere in caelum!