In reality: reality, to me, is better than all my dreams.
Year: 2013
she said.
“When ever is there time to stare at the sky,” she said. I could see the goosebumps forming on her skin as she said it. I could see the hair on her forearms rise. From her facial expression to the wrinkles in her smile, something in her changed when she said that sentence. As if in that moment she was the sentence itself.
Time cannot be found. It is only lost.
Where possible, I prefer truth over fiction.
intentions.
They’re stacked atop another. They’re aligned from end to end. They’re left haphazardly on the floor with other messes. They seem bruised and bent, but they’ve remained unread. Books that I’ve amassed from here and there over time but haven’t quite bothered with yet. Though the intention was once there.
Now they lie around as receipts for my intentions. An IOU of sorts. I owe them my time. Yet I amass these receipts as if I would live forever. I keep making hundreds of promises to myself that physically collect as I ignore them. I will not live forever. I will leave these owed intentions behind.
That thought scares me.
When we say “rest in peace,” we’re not speaking to the dead. We’re speaking to ourselves.
breathing.
My nephew runs into my room, climbs unto my bed and rests his head on my shoulder.
“We are just breathing and doing nothing,” he says.
awkward.
that awkward moment when.
that awkward moment when.
that awkward moment now.
that awkward moment then.
that awkward moment here.
that awkward moment there.
that awkward moment how.
that awkward moment where.
that awkward moment when.
that awkward moment when.
that moment.
so awkward.
nothing much.
nothing happened
because we let our days
overtake our dreams.
and we found
ourselves sleeping as the
world passed us by.
I don’t like how this blog has become a place for just one-liners and bad poetry.