how can i not lie to you

I seem to have a problem with the truth, either saying too much or too little. There doesn't seem to be a comfortable middle spot.
I could split myself open right now, and bleed the truth uncontrollably. Or I could prick my finger and spill just a drop.

I think, this time, I need to hold my tongue. You've got some idea. And that's way too much for my comfort.



photo credit - aimee brodeur

cemetery symmetry

"What are you going to do about it?"
"Do I have to do anything? I think I'm happy to just exist. I'm on the planet, is that not enough?"
"Well, yeah, but what are you going to do about that?"
"I'll figure it out."



photo credit - silja magg

there will be no miracles here

There are no miracles. There is only life. When life is beautiful, or creates beauty, that is the closest you will get to a miracle.

And you are beautiful.



photo credit - unknown

acid tongue

Here is my situation: and here is me being honest about it:

You, yes you, are like the warmth of fire and the light of the sun, you are like that feeling you get when you stand up after sitting down for too long, you are like the tickle of a stray hair on my shoulder. If I was a city, you'd be my earthquake. One minute I am still, solid, sound and silent, the next you've torn through me and I'm collapsing all around myself. You are a thousand and one cliches and metaphors. You are the ocean. You are the sky. You are the road that leads home. You are silence. You are music.
And I just can't get my head around it.



photo credit - sssseahorse

numb

It was cold today. But not as cold as I pretended, every time I shivered you'd put your arms around me and that was nice.



photo credit - *nishe

well i, i have my doubts

The sky is grey today, but my eyes are still green.
I cross to the window and stare out at the sky, a thick blanket of dirty white covering my world. It's like the clouds you get with snow but without the snow. It's not much warmer, either. Everything outside seems to be waving at me, the limbs of trees reaching out like arms beckoning me towards them, yet somehow pushing me away at the same time. It's summer, but I can see bare branches.
I wish my eyes were blue.



photo credit - myseld

constant state of panic

photo credit - myself