those lungs that capture so much smoke are the same lungs that give breath to this someone that im so very fond of.

ramblings on junk mail envelopes

tonight. fuck tonight... its a shame to see peoples true colors. beauty is the only thing that matters in this piece of shit world and im tired of not belonging. i need to spend more time with you, reality. i don't know what I've been thinking lately but alot of it has to do with things that don't add up, true life, and falling for that free spirit of yours. you have intrigued me. why is loneliness such a terrifying idea that no one has the desire or ability to be. why do we long for another? unimpressive is just the opposite of its meaning. what if days were actually new. no past to see where we came from. 99% of the population lives from yesterday's yesterday...and the rest of us live in the beauty of our dreams.....

tiny hands reaching for something fragile that is a little to far from her grasp. i feel like a lost child. in this limbo between cluelessness and instinct. my heart aches. a physical pain in my chest. understanding doesn't come with the territory of making things easier. my life is much like a coldplay song. sounding a little unrealistic, but the depth of sadness feels very real. i need happiness to seep through this despair soon...

Homesick at home. i dont know where i am supposed to be. everytime i leave my family i get heartsick and cry most of the way home. when i get home i automatically want to leave. but when i do i have no destination. this sadness could kill me soon if i let it. i dont get sad too often, but when i do its deep and it hurts. like -14 degree wind blowing through your body.

there is a man. playing his guitar like it was his heart bleeding.
and im sitting here. in this busy little coffee house found in an alley way
with a fly sitting on the tip of my page, planning his next destination.
there are trends taped to every body that passes me while a young man is studying his bible as if it were his heart. there are these two women with soft skin and curly hair discussing abominations like religion was their college degree and they were the creators of truth. if i had a cigarette on hand i think my lips would be delighted to keep its company. to inhale that dreadful taste in attempts to calm my head and my heart. this crowd is dissapating with the minutes that are passing and the time is draining out of me as if it were my heart. my heart. oh all of these hearts...