tangent, 3.5His thoughts and dreams circle you again, in a way none of us have seen before. In the beginning it had been love, which moved on to guilt and regret before coming to the point where your face became a nightmare. Now there is something different in the recollections and half remembered musings. The sadness that tinges your ghost hasn't left, but there is temper in a small smile and the words, "We were kids." No one but She and the old man will speak on what it means. Even then, they do so in hushed whispers not shared with anyone but themselves. The rest of us are starting to believe, however halfheartedly, that a dawn breaks. We do not knowtangent, 3.5
tangent, 3It's hard for him to move on when you are in every picture he looks at and the shadows that dance in the corner's of his eyes.tangent, 3
Things have taken a turn, haven't they, one that he doesn't take seriously. No one does, no one but us, this wretched chorus that started as something innocent. A way to 'speak' to the intangible and an escape, a chance to breath. We were never meant to be more than a way to relax and think things through. None of us had any purpose aside from that and the thrice damned shade that you left behind forces more from our already thin existence. God and all the angels, do you have any idea what's ha
he and she, 2She was leaning out the window, screaming into the wind, a fierce smile on her tanned skin. The sun beat down on her face when the tree line along the highway broke, flashes of light between endless seconds of shadow. Her dark hair turned into a banner that flapped behind her head, strands tossed in every direction. One more howl of exultation and she returned to the car's interior, grin still breaking her face in half and eyes watering.he and she, 2
“You really shouldn't do that.” He said, sparing her a glance from the driver's seat. He had the steering wheel in an iron grip, one that had only relaxed once she'd come back in. &nbs
he and she“There's less here.”he and she
She looked over, eyebrow arched, lips pressed into a thin line. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged, tracing patterns on the window, bright eyes watching the storm outside their apartment. “I dunno. There's just less here.”
“Less of what?” Her voice was sharp, a staccato burst of sound that pierced the relative silence of the living room.
“Less noise.” He leaned back in his chair, the one that he'd pulled over to the window sill. “Less confusion. Less of that hectic hustle.”
She sighed, deep a
haecceityi like to wonder what other people are thinking when i’m not thinking anything that isn’t about you and i like to wonder what other people are saying when i start to lose my words and vowels and punctuation and lately, i’ve realized it’s easy to say nothing wrong when you don’t say anything at all.haecceity
i have this tendency to sit in the dark or stare at the ceiling and pretend like i’m not really all alone since if i can’t see otherwise—it means it’s not true so tonight, my room is filled with me and you
and countless sleepless hours a
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
Hysterical
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BOOT TO THE HEAD!
Hi
I really appreciate it
-Isaiah
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My Art: [link]
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Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber. — Plato
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涙は枯らさずとっておいて 腹抱えて仲間と笑って流すんだ
-Miyavi
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BT.
"The truth knocks on the door and you say, "Go away, I'm looking for the truth," and so it goes away."
— Robert M. Pirsig
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintanance
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raphael does photography, too!
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