sparkling as the water moves with the wind that gently rustles your hair,
nuzzled up on someone's shoulder,
hearing the sounds of a man sitting on the bridge,
playing a slow, mournful tune on his guitar
both reading the dada manifesto,
you can almost feel like you're home.
sometimes things just feel perfect. comfortable. lovely. beautiful.
the worst part is that they don't last very long.
some days, the world is a wonderful place and you're happy.
but then, tomorrow could ruin your high,
and it sucks, you know?
i just don't want to struggle anymore.
i just want things to fall into place again like they did on the river.
i want to be happy with myself.
i am really tired of feeling like i'm not good enough,
and it's really starting to wear me down.
0 Responses to '"I destroy the drawers of the brain, and those of social organisation: to sow demoralisation everywhere, and throw heaven's hand into hell, hell's eyes into heaven, to reinstate the fertile wheel of a universal circus in the Powers of reality, and the fantasy of every individual."'
Post a Comment