drowning in my emotions, with the scribble of a pen.

 

i do not know how to be missed.

I do not know how to be missed,

only know the steps it takes to

make someone leave.

My grenade of a heart detonates

and scatters every trace of what

I could never hold onto,

leaving holes where there used

to be carvings of emotions

from people who had scars on their minds

and knives in their hands.

I wince every time my veins pump

the sludge my blood has turned into,

ready to burst and chase away the rest

of whom I can never bring close enough.

I do not have the number of fingers it would take

to count the lives I have demolished,

or how many sleepless nights have plagued me

with bags under my eyes and

a hollowness that weighs more than any bomb.

I probably shouldn’t be this excited to read a book about children zombies who feed on blood, but to each their own.

I probably shouldn’t be this excited to read a book about children zombies who feed on blood, but to each their own.

malformalady:

Handful of black sand at Panalu’u Beach, Hawaii. Punaluʻu Beach (also called Black Sand Beach)has black sand made of basalt and created by lava flowing into the ocean which explodes as it reaches the ocean and cools.
Photo credit: Tracy Zhu

malformalady:

Handful of black sand at Panalu’u Beach, Hawaii. Punaluʻu Beach (also called Black Sand Beach)has black sand made of basalt and created by lava flowing into the ocean which explodes as it reaches the ocean and cools.

Photo credit: Tracy Zhu

thedailydoodles:

"Everyday Feels Like Sunday"
(Version 2)
He stands out in the dark, on the fire escapeThe yearning for a cigarette is nipping at his napeHe’s not sure what is wrong, but something isn’t rightIt’s just feels like how it always feels every Sunday night.
Tomorrow is always looming, and tomorrow will have broughtEverything he’s been avoiding, to pay for the guilt that he has wroughtThe air hangs so heavy; dead and dismal around his headSunday can never be enjoyed because tomorrow you’ll be dead.
The emptiness fills his lungs, as he inhales deepHe’s not sure if he should stay awake, or try to get some sleep.Everyday might feel like Sunday, but he just has to pretendThat tomorrow will be better, and someday Sunday will end.
(Starring the Timetraveler Ki!  Grab his new LP “Lawnmower Man” here!)
Wanna appear in your very own Daily Doodle?  CLICK HERE!FAQ  TWITTER  FACEBOOK  SOCIETY6

thedailydoodles:

"Everyday Feels Like Sunday"

(Version 2)

He stands out in the dark, on the fire escape
The yearning for a cigarette is nipping at his nape
He’s not sure what is wrong, but something isn’t right
It’s just feels like how it always feels every Sunday night.

Tomorrow is always looming, and tomorrow will have brought
Everything he’s been avoiding, to pay for the guilt that he has wrought
The air hangs so heavy; dead and dismal around his head
Sunday can never be enjoyed because tomorrow you’ll be dead.

The emptiness fills his lungs, as he inhales deep
He’s not sure if he should stay awake, or try to get some sleep.
Everyday might feel like Sunday, but he just has to pretend
That tomorrow will be better, and someday Sunday will end.

(Starring the Timetraveler Ki!  Grab his new LP Lawnmower Man” here!)

Wanna appear in your very own Daily Doodle?  CLICK HERE!
FAQ  TWITTER  FACEBOOK
  SOCIETY6