1.I believe that categorical listing would give myself more structure but really, it’s just a placebo.
2. I have a slight phobia of commitment. To me it only conjures images of a radical screaming experience while being chained to a boy or something.Then again, I’m pretty purist when it comes to flavour combinations in food, so…perhaps this is the application of a similar theory lol.
3. I plan to listen to Farenheit before getting back my results to chill out. (-_-)
4. I think the worst thing you could do to someone is to intentionally deceive for your own benefit. It’s horrible.
5. I sometimes think I’m too simple minded for the world, but I sometimes think I’m too world-weary.
6. I like my tea warm, even in hot weather.
7. Munchkins will always remain my dream kitty.
on a dark desert road
to show me the stars
climbing over each other
like an orchestra
thrashing its way
through time itself
I never saw light that way
again.” —The Two Times I Loved You the Most In a Car, Dorothea Grossman (via shesinacoma)
Brave New World-esque scenarios are the best for forgetting the burdens of life I suppose. Orgy porgy Ford and fancy. Because when you try books, or walks, everything’s still there. Just that the brevity of a getaway from reality with alcohol and flightful fancies would be much more marketable than the former two.
Well just a thought. Out of many thoughts. Which pop inside, and leave so swiftly, silently. I would like a net to catch these thoughts. So that I could feed on them.
And then get back to ground zero.
I dreamed I was a mannequin in the pawnshop window
of your conjectures.
I dreamed I was a chant in the mouth of a monk, saffron-robed
syllables in the religion of You.
I dreamed I was a lament to hear the deep sorrow places
of your lungs.
I dreamed I was your bad instincts.
I dreamed I was a hummingbird sipping from the tulip of your ear.
I dreamed I was your ex-boyfriend stored in the basement
with your old baggage.
I dreamed I was a jukebox where every song sang your name.
I dreamed I was in an elevator, rising in the air shaft
of your misgivings.
I dreamed I was a library fine, I’ve checked you out
too long so many times.
I dreamed you were a lake and I was a little fish leaping
through the thin reeds of your throaty humming.
I must’ve dreamed I was a nail, because I woke beside you still
I dreamed I was a tooth to fill the absences of your old age.
I dreamed I was a Christmas cactus, blooming in the desert
of my stupidity.
I dreamed I was a saint’s hair-shirt, sewn with the thread
of your saliva.
I dreamed I was an All Night Movie Theater, showing the
flickering black reel of my nights before I met you.
I must’ve dreamed I was gravity, I’ve fallen for you so damn hard.
The capacity of mainstream songs of sap which appeals to the primal instincts of the simplest form of sadness and melancholy still holds me tight and traps my brain into thoughts of you…which are such a fixture in my life.
I miss how you were a call away, and I can’t fix that, and you won’t fix that. Sometimes I feel like taking a knife to stab memories deep and bleed care and affection so tangible I’ll lap it up like blood.
My coherency after a night’s worth of alcohol does astound me. Not to mention, my internal body clock which rings at 0830. Feh.