peachbonesūüćĎ‚ú®

cheekbones like peaches,

smile so keen

soul so beautiful,

so unmistakably clean.

       tongue like candy,

       body so strong

       hands so kind,

       an earthly charm.

A man with morals,

ethics and candor

with cheekbones like peaches,

a mind as colorful as reefs of coral. 

       He’s got cheekbones like peaches,

       I just wanna take a bite,

       to eat him up if he’ll let me 

       (and I think he just might).  

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Onward, and to the Stars

As I embrace the idea of looking to the future, and of making sense of what is to come, I find myself less anxious than I might’ve previously. Lack of anxiety, of course, may not necessarily mean lack of fear itself, but I do believe I am more at ease. And for that, I am grateful. I don’t know where this newfound peace is coming from, and how to hone it holistically and optimize in the way that I probably should. I suspect optimism for the future is stemming from an exhaustion with my preceding obsession with the past, or perhaps, just a clear understanding of the need to release it.

Regardless, after a long time, I am thinking about tomorrow. I am thinking about the weeks to come, about what will become of everything. I am more conscious of my relationships with people, and will attempt to be more charismatic and attentive in the way I interact with them (I think, now, that they deserve this, and that I have been wrong to remain distant and cold for the sake of my own convenience). I don’t know whether I can become less selfish, for while in theory it seems to be a brilliantly simple and becoming manner of living, I find it difficult to practice the art of denying my own desires. Still, I’ll try to work on that. Hedonism, in all of the luxuries it provides, is not something I’m sure I want my legacy (should there be one) to be associated with.

There is a lot I want to do with whatever time I may have left. I know how irritatingly clich√© that sounds, and I know how many people who’ve made the very same claim have done little with their actions to support it. Even still, I felt the need to say it, because I feel it, and at this point in my life I am finding that feeling something is often the most apt and apparent cue we ever get to say it; I may be wrong. I feel I’ve wasted an insurmountable amount of valuable time. And I don’t mean to say this to evoke a feeling of regret or depression, but of ambition and determination, to make sure I don’t continue to mistake the time I am given as some sort of prison sentence. Time was not the shackle, my perspective was; time is a privilege, one I had been ignorantly wasting.

I hope that this final push into utter adulthood, turning twenty, means I will begin to transform (as I would very much like to) from a girl of thought and grotesque obsession, into a woman of action and eloquence. I want to think less, and do more. I want to plan less, and see more. I want to be absolutely present in every moment granted to me. The time, as I now know, is now.

I have found that the secret of letting go of my obsession with the past, of allowing myself to come face to face with the idea of fashioning my future in cognizance of its significance to me, was to understand that the future is not some distant, intangible phenomenon, it is now. Someday is here, and it is time to make of it what I will.    

Anxious Alice 

Need a new muse, so I’ll blow the fuse, lift the ruse of infatuation

In translation I am feeling less free lately and more restrained

Ever since the gain from trade has lost the ability to sustain itself

Haunted 

I am feeling present and simultaneously gone 

So far along that I am lost within the synth of the song that stopped playing an hour ago 

Look up 

The number of stairs has multiplied by 65 since I walked down a couple years ago 

Into the rabbit hole 

Willing but terrified 

And now I look up and don’t see the sky 

Just your knowing eyes looking down at me 

Disappointed 

I’ve anointed myself with the dime of grime that’s oozing from behind the door that wasn’t here a second ago 

Let’s go? 

Oh, but we only just got here!

And fear is not a good enough reason to leave behind this space we’ve discovered in our minds 

Time?

Oh but we’ve plenty of that,

It’s everywhere- over the sky, under that mat 

We can swim in it if you’d like

Arboretum of Afterthoughts 

Like hash and cigarette ash 
He had a way about him

Something new   

But familiar too

There was a green dragon 

Sitting on his forearm 

Not a force to be reckoned with 

Nor a reason to be intrigued,

Left as quickly as he came

Silhouette outlined by the remains of his scent

A thought maintained, lingering in my brain 

Gone like the dream that never was 

Remembered like the thought that never left 

Who he was, was who I am?

Were neither a thing of trueness?