There is a ghost inside your closet.

How.

iamadarkmatter:

How do I say I that I love you? When words seem ambiguous (transparency), when my heart skips a bit and goes into a fraction of two, making sounds like jayarrarr, feeling the magical beat as the dust dances too because finally the eternally coiling serpent is here.  No, I am not the apocalypse poet nor mister self-destruct, whose gracious words are like messages of the moon, rather my musings and ramblings are misfit-words of a poetically undead, which portrays my soul dipped in the story of scars, written on my ribcage.

How do I say that a part my ink stained heart has fallen in love with you? I feel like I am an awakened philosopher when I read your letters in black and blue, but a part of me is still haunted by the wolves(xiii) which chases the lambs inside my paper bound spine.

How do I say that I think of you everyday whether I am on my tempest at noon or sailing freely through moderate climates of a cool universe? Your eyes are dark, like soft nights, comforting each bruise, a pallid fire to warm flesh and to stitch these jaded infinite splinters.

How do I say from my heart and my mind? That she’s an argonaut from a super satellite, an ordinary wonder from the void. To say that I have fallen in love by the grace of a fawn and sparrows, by the way words can form into an “artreture, pavorst, velixir, skelechitophobia,” by the ways the real vagabond king can only sputter and haunt me like the wild things do, by the ways you have my life encoded on an enigmatic identity of cigarettes and leathers, of an abstract escape surreal as ghosts and onion skins. To say that a part of me wants you like travesty in technicolor, your colors and shades have my life in italics.

How do I say I missed you? I scribble the words viveri amentia on a mobble berry, hoping the stains of the past will come back to leave me a gift like some undeveloped apathy. I missed your flaws stitched with good intentions because a part of me is also broken. I will miss the lilys of the field, the vaudevillian devil, the reversed rainstorm, the griev, the girl versus whale, the girls who stole my heart; keciasamethystheart and shespeaksyvon forever shedding petals upon skin. The boy wandering, who has mind of a rueberry, trebemot, graham-geiger, and grumpyskunk. Just all of you. 

I’m only a dark matter in this cool universe, headed for nowhere, a victim of convenience, forever burning muse(s), but the pilgrim soul in me needs to get out from this closet. Nevertheless, I will leave you a pen, a ghost and a haunting.

How do I say love you?

I love you like my own heart beating, unnoticed but necessary. I love you like my own secreted sins.

How do I say goodbye? 

I wish for one day our souls would finally meet on this silly planet.

 

Boy & Spider

It’s so beautiful, I can’t help but cry because I’m leaving this place :’)

wolves-xiii:

In that garden was a single thread spanning from one white blossom to another. The boy didn’t know what to make of it; it was very much unlike the burrows of the rabbits, the hives of the bees, the meticulously woven nests of the robins. “A spider made this, perhaps,” he thought, “Though I haven’t any idea why she abandoned it.” “No, not abandoned,” said a tiny voice from behind one of the white petals. “Just contemplating the design.” “What! But aren’t all the designs the same?” “I don’t know—maybe. But even so, I intend to weave this web in such a fashion so as to make it my own.”

The boy scratched his head. “What’s so special about a web? Made of silk and woven fancily and perhaps decorated with a couple flourishes—and that’s it!” “It’s mine, I made it, I didn’t look at anyone else’s web, it all occurred to me in my head, so there.” “That’s a novel notion,” said the boy, half-curious and half-amused. “Who ever thought of such a thing!” “To me, it is special. To certain other spiders, it might also be special. You humans have something like it. Poetry—isn’t that the weapon you use to capture your prey?”

—

For iamadarkmatter, who has inspired me profoundly with this series.

charles-is-dead replied to your post: charles-is-dead replied to your post: How. Oh…

Haha, that’s cool then. Enjoy your break then. :)

Hopefully. Got myself a job offer with Sprint. Dunno when I’ll be back. Maybe a month. Yeah. 

charles-is-dead replied to your post: How.

Oh look, my old blog made it in here. :) and you’re leaving? :0

On hiatus dude. Hope to be really back asap ;)