Unwind.

• 2010-06-15

  i do not like green eggs and ham

  i do not like when people re-post others’ thoughts or images, it is unoriginal and stupid.

  i do not like when people post images of other people because they look like pretty hipsters therefore it makes the person posting them a pretty hipster.

  i do not like that people post certain art pieces or graphic arts or photography soley because it gives them that ‘indie’ or ‘alternative’ look and it is not relevant to them at all nor do they even know who the artist is or appreciate them.

  i do not like when people put snippets of generic emotional writing and try to pawn it off as their own, i write all of my posts from the disturbing, strange thoughts my mind produces.

  alright that’s it, that is my little ranty rant, now go bitch about it and keep up your status quo as a fifteen year old thrift indie artist blogger hipster.

  

• 2010-03-28

  

  as realization has been thrust upon me i can’t look past. i’ve lost a things i can never get back. but i’ve also gained things that i never want to lose. it’s sort of like those moments that are the present. the ones that aren’t future, nor past, but it is the here and now and you can feel it vividly. these are the moments i want. the moments where you realize everything is good and even though it is going to change in a matter of seconds or minutes, you’re okay with it, because the aura of the moment is sort of hovering over everyones bodies, floating. soon it will fade away like smoke. and when it does, it is okay because you can still catch a whiff of it if your lucky.

• 2010-03-10

  

  The thought of you rotting in a cell makes me sick. The fact that pig nosed, revolting hogs can lock a human up for defying them disgusts me. But, even though I am sitting here waiting. And you’re lying there thinking. We’re both closing our eyes at night and dreaming of the same thing; freedom. Because one day you’ll be on your own. And ill be done with school. And we can just escape. We can go back to talking all night until it turns to drowsy gibberish. We can go back to not giving a damn about anyone but us. Back to good mornings. And late nights. Going insane in a locked room for hours in crazy states of mind. Shivering to death on a cold, wooden floor together. Building a fire in late November just to keep us warm in bitter woods. First impressions, petty fights, slapping, crying, laughing, kissing, drinking, breathing, talking, screaming. More laughter. More tears. Uncomfortable sleep. Spooning, eating, smoking, listening. Smiling. I never thought this life was possible. You are the yellow bird I have been waiting for.

• 2010-03-08

  

  Playing the bongo on your breasts and the xzylaphone on your ribs. bodies are instruments. some people use them poorly, portraying the wrong kind of sound. some people just blend in with the chorus, and some demand solos. whatever the case, im sick of hearing your music, it’s depressing.

• 2009-10-13

  those blurry nights

  we’ll never miss a party

  because we keep them going constantly

  we’ll never have to listen

  to anyone about anything

  

• 2009-10-11

  

  does this make sense to anyone? humans communicate!