Crunch Dreams

My brain is almost gone
I write ten thousand years of history
On hardboiled eggs, left in the carton
Sidewalk remembrance, a crashed and died

Tidbits of comparisons, people’s lives
Written on seeds, tossed on the 405

My mind hollow intertwined groaned growth
Discombobulated, vines on sound walls

Hoping no one minds if I leave remnants
For there’ll be nothing left of me but this


Are you unaware
or do you just not care
that my heart was forged
from tears and glass?
You speak in insults,
sulfuric words dripping easily
from your barbed wire tongue.
Words that chip and etch
their way into my
china heart.
You walk away,
turning easily
from the crumpled heap
of my surrendered soul.
I drift away.
Nothing more but grains of sand
on an endless breeze.


And on the one day I needed you, really needed you, you aren’t there. After days of complete torture and hurt, I expect to see you standing at my door, ready to make it better like you always do. But you weren’t. The blame can’t entirely be on you, though. I can’t say that. I surely had a lot more faith in you than I should have. So I will close the door and walk away, maybe we will meet again another day.
—  you weren’t there

➸ twice ‘twicecoaster’ lockscreens

♡  please like if you use/save it

It’s always morning after poems
Kids doing coke on bathroom counters.
It’s always cigarette smoke in my hair
Foreheads pressed to fogging car windows.
It’s always glazed and empty eyes
Have another drink
maybe just get high.
—  Post party madness// Kira Sala
Sometimes I feel like Atlas holding up the world all by myself. It’s as though heavy responsibilities are piled on my shoulders in every area of my life all at once and the weight of them is crushing me. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I let it all go… if I let the whole world come crashing down around me. But I know so many people depend on me and that if I were to falter they would all come tumbling down with me and I can’t let that happen.
The harder it gets, the sadder I become and the more I hide that sadness, the more it adds to the burden. I don’t understand how nobody realizes it’s too much for one person to handle… How can nobody notice my stress and anxiety or see that I’m slowly weakening and can’t take much more?
Sometimes I wonder if I really am holding up the world… or if the world is purposely trying to crush me.

The mockingbird plays his game as knots tighten unnoticed.
Hope is like tying a noose around the moon.
The night is wrapped close like a blanket, and I have become one with the darkness.
Unfold the map, there is magic all around us.

We are already in tune with the universe.
We continue to grow, until slowly we start to disperse.
This is the fading, the failing.
We all waste time battling with beliefs, but we are closer to glory than we’ve ever been.

Death is a grinning skull, grim like the northern winter,
hung low in the summer sky.
She whispers in a voice like wounds and sharpening knives.
This body is a cage where words are kept, and I am desperate enough to cry.
Her voice offers to set me free, and the monster is ready to leave.
I will follow her east.
I always wanted to fly, but I am too used to being a beast.

—  giraffevader - Werewolf weather

I. My mouth tastes of decay, and there’s sorrow on my breath.
Show me the darkness.
Show me the death.
There’s no safety in this skin we’re in, this hollow living is paper thin.
This is a night of cold gods.

II. Bless these wrists, these weak and ravaged things, these limp and savage limbs I fought to save.
Bless these hearts, these burned and broken parts we work so hard to repair.
We work so hard to be brave.

III. The moon is still creeping through my bones, it lingers in my bloodstream, whispering.
This is a night of cold gods.
They howl at the moon like lost dogs.
They call through the streets like winter winds.
They crawl through the darkness, bringing slaughter as they sing.

IV. Regret digs a lonely grave.
Over the years these hollow shells fill up with hate and rage.
One by one we fit the bars to our own cage.
And slowly we surrender, and we age.

V. But there is a god inside you too.
A warm god,
a gracious god,
a goodness,
and a loving ghost.
A soft riot, wrapped in righteousness, ready to redeem and rebuild.
There is a home in you.
There is a warrior waiting.
There is a fire inside that will never stop burning, an eternal star that will never lose its light.
Shine bright, the universe is watching.
And this is the best bit….
You can never lose the beauty you were blessed with.

—  giraffevader - A night of cold gods
Don't follow the Monkey II

Once again, more blogs you should follow instead of the Monkey. Unfollow me right after you follow these blogs.

because your brain is a masochist
& it likes to be spanked like a dirty Catholic schoolboy

bee porn

as much as people reblog him
I may as well be following him

realism & Picassos

yo tengo un burrito gigante

twilight of the magicians and cookies

bullets of lead, heart of gold

neither a thespian nor a drummer

a reference to being covered in tattoos

the color of his penis

no, his avatar does not look serial-killer-ish

a string of words grouped together
forming some kind of meaning

one of my 12 disciples who recognize my genius

apparitions of a feather haunt together

psychedelic hoarfrost

More to come. Cheers!