Reaching

Stop the lies

It won’t stop the cries

Of pain and suffering

For life isn’t buffering

It continues on and on

Till all but one are gone

i see so much beauty in people and i wonder if they see the same in me

I read. Obsessively. Because, when I read, there is purpose to my loneliness.

The stars can’t reach us

The stars can’t reach us

Yet we try in vain

Our hearts full of greed and lust

Wishing only for gain

Hopes and dreams wishing on a star

Corrupt, darkness, despair, stick like tar

Stop soul searching

Please refrain

Nothing will stop the the destruction lurking.

For the stars lie in pain

Overtaxed with ambition

Dying to give you the darkness you’ve been wishin’

The stars are lying

There was no magic here

Lured us like sirens

Hell is crying

Awash with flaming tears

Burning the Horizons

— Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time

[text ID: Perhaps the meaning of all human activity lies in the artistic consciousness, in the pointless and selfless creative act?]

*sits forward in my wizard chair* Ah yes...i have just the remedy for such an ailment. *hands you a strawberry* *hands you a strawberry* *hands you a str

want to respond to every noise not under my control by growling

Shove the evil inside, by feeding the good.

Let no evil thought be unaccompanied by a kind act.

Let no sin be forgotten unless repented and replaced with a kindness.

Weather small or large it is the intention behind it that matters.

So let evil try, for I will kill it,

With my kindness

Past Midnight poetry- Just a bit

Sometimes I feel a bit crazy

And a bit hazy

Like I know what’s happening only a bit after it happens

My words aren’t really my own

My brain doesn’t feel like me

And maybe it’s a bit scary

A bit sickening

That I am not living

What I want is peace and I can’t have it yet

I wander a bit here

Ponder a bit about something that maybe doesn’t matter

It’s a bit out of context but maybe I’m not real

My words might be

But I am never really me