Jul 15th, 2010 7:06:44 pm - Subscribe

Creates the look I dare acheive.
They make me smile, and swoon and check,
Still my beating heart.

They are blue ones,
Gray and orange,
Dance lightly in a wreath.

The knot, tied tight,
Clinches around my windpipe in a lazy sense,
Too tired to try and close the deal.

Too tired to dry and wilt,
Too tired to let me rest.
To sleep.

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As of late I have been happy. In a romantic sense. By romantic, I mean romantiziced way. I live in a 'state of happiness'. Whatever the fuck that means these days. I guess I refer to the the preversion of self.

I have convinced myself that I am happy; therefore I am happy.

I ramble; therefore I am full of shit.

Chipped teacups. Floral print. Miniature buttons. Wide stripes. Bicycles. Birdcages and effortless tomes.

All things I surround myself mentally with. I am falling down the rabbit hole. Through the looking glass. I am slowly going mad, or coming sane.

These days, who can be certain which is which?
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July 21st, 2010