i call this lost & found. it’s actual title is naive.
eligion is a breeding ground
Where the Devil’s work is deeply found,
With teeth as sharp as cathedral spires,
Slowly sinking in.
God knows that I’ve been naive
But I think it makes him proud of me.
Now it’s so hard to separate
My disappointments from his name.
Because shadows stretch behind the truth,
Where stained glass offers broken clues
And fear ties knots and pulls them tight.
It leaves us paralyzed.
But in the end such tired words will rest.
The truth will reroute the narrow things they’ve said.
The marionette strings will lower and untie
And out of the ashes, love will be realized.
God knows that we’ve been naive
And a bit nearsighted to say the least.
It’s broken glass at children’s feet
That gets swept aside unexpectedly.
all i can think of is “oh really? he was nice. he had man boobs.”
i always think emile hirsch is dead because of into the wild.
my favorite wallpost.
| wilson: | damn caley. if only you were black... haha |
| me: | wilson, how many times do i have to tell you? i AM black. do you need to get your eyes checked? |
Ordered by most used:
love life feel time summer exhale people inhale please makes beautiful feeling longlivethequeen night little light moment world morning ideato be (or not to be) continued.
“this day, eight years ago, our nation was hit with a catastrophe so huge we could hardly handle ourselves.”
she sat there twisting her lipstick cap off. who even wears lipstick anymore? she applied it to her soft, full lips slowly. the boy in the seat beside her watching eagerly out of the corner of his eye; he wished he could stare her full in the face. he wished he was the one touching her lips. she was oblivious to him. she only saw her fingers at the bottom of the tube going back and forth.
“the businessman got out of bed, drank his morning coffee, told his kids to behave, kissed his wife on the cheek, and walked out the door texting his mistress. who knew that this day would be his last? who knew that insane terrorists would end the lives of thousands of americans?”
she looked at her nails. she chewed. she swallowed.
“the woman rushed down the terminal to catch her flight. she was going on vacation to visit her sister in los angeles. she could imagine the feel the crisp california air on her cheeks already. she would never feel it.”
she looked at her friend across the room. she drew squiggles on her paper.
“the radical muslim put the pocket knife in his front left pocket, his thin wallet in his back right pocket. he looked at himself in the mirror but no one looked back. he called his wife to say he loved her. she had no idea what he was about to do. he went through gate after gate. he boarded the plane with his fellow terrorists. he took a knife to the flight attendant. he stabbed anyone else who got in his way. they were going to die anyway. he heard someone say ‘if it happens, it’ll be quick. don’t worry.’ he looked out of the window and caught his own reflection. there was blood on his face, blood on his hands. he didn’t recognize himself. he hated himself. he stared at his reflection, not paying attention to anything around him. then everything around him was nothing. his big payoff? death. death and thousands of people hurting, screaming. it was on purpose. it was on purpose.”
the bell rang. the girl put her stuff back into her backpack, sighing in relief. what was he babbling about anyway? he’s such a freaking idiot all the freaking time. he just liked hearing his own voice. school is pointless. whatever. at least i’m going shopping this afternoon and maybe he‘ll be there…
her thoughts stayed there, never moved. never touched by anything. what was he babbling about anyway?
