nothingness

i want to make music, write lyrics and be the song stuck in your head.
but unfortunately for me, i have nothing to go on...
so i will be stepping away from this...and if i come back
it will be with limitless force, i think....maybe.
idk....right now, ive got nothing.

... stay tuned for my possible return.

For lack of better words...

im weighted down. like my feet are soaking in fresh cement, cant feel my toes move....am i dead? is this the in between? the moments before my last breath escapes my lungs and my soul drifts from  me...
i have moaned the words 'im dying' for months, is this really it? ive grown bored of hearing my cracked heart try to stabilize, i hear it attempting to regulate heartbeats, but it struggles.  weak with hurt and anger and lovelessness.  i am numbed from my experiences but wouldnt give them up for the world, so is this actually suicide?  does love really mean death? because when its gone, i am only left with the framework that it filled.  i am split open and hollowed like a halloween pumpkin, but atleast those are interesting to look at.  i am an empty being, a ghost, barely human.  i ramble about past times and fantasize about what a future would be like.  i scribble nonsense on spare paper .... thinking that maybe putting random diction to paper will liberate my mind of the hell i live in.  i find myself looking over my shoulder, and then stopping and just turning around, awaiting my demise to meet me and shake my hand.  sounds arent sounds anymore. smells arent as sweet.  music isnt as passionate. nothing is what it was, before. this is it.... this must be it. no bright light though...just end.

pondering...

If your feelings don't matter, does it revoke the right to feel them?

gibberish 3

fighting to hold on to someone detached ... heartache

lover=fighter

I'm a lover.
But it's in me to fight.
And I'm a better lover for it.

almost home

Home is where the heart is…but my heart lives somewhere else.


So for now I will dress these walls with pictures of memories that I refuse to let fade….

Paintings and sketches of her genius

I will blare the music she’s written herself so that her voice lingers here…

Cook her favorite foods to fill this place with her diverse cultures.

I will leave space for her things, so if she returns it’s like she never left.

Today the sun smiled through my window,
silly me.... I thought it was you...
but I rolled over to still find your side of the bed cold and vacant.

I miss how your tiny frame would find a way to take up all the space
and leave me no choice but to cozy up closer to you to keep myself from falling off the bed.
I love how everynight...you knew that the black pillow was my favorite (only because its yours)

What I would give to have our goodnight kiss again,
and hear you say "I love you, goodnight"