Guilt.

Urge.

The way their voices jump through high notes–

It makes me go nervous;

Realizing that hearing their voices out loud

scares you a little bit, because it's maybe

the way they sound in sex fantasy.

-t.f.s.

“But you have to manage that , you have to learn how to be alive after dying again and again. The art of recovery is to want to be alive after plenty of deaths.”

Silence.

Every night I come back,

to feel the silence of the night.

As I go deeper in it,I can't hear

anyone's laugh or joy.

In the night I am lost;

Thats where I belong.

It develops the tears

running down my face

so I can say "Finally"

to myself..

...

...

"Just another tiring day from work"-I say.

-t.f.s.

Feels like home.

Do you know why you feel like home?

Because when you're far away from me

I feel lost; I'm hopeless and homeless man

without your endless and sweet love.

- source: someone i love.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.” H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu House of R'lyeh by Talon Abraxas

Somewhere in northern Italy

“If I could have him like this in my dreams every night of my life, I'd stake my entire life on dreams and be done with the rest.” - André Aciman, Call me by your Name

You say your name is heavy

Like an anchor that sinks into the ocean bed?

Like a warm wool coat that shields from the icy wind?

Like honey’s viscosity or cream’s thickness?

Like a suitcase full of first-edition brilliance?

You shake your head: No. Heavy, like…

a sack of drenched grains.

I laugh. Your self-deprecation

is the height of ludicrousness

You smile, tucking

the curls behind my ear;

What comes to mind

when you think of my name?

My turn to smile;

your name stretches my lips

as easily as a lily bursting open in bloom

Your name is the collection

of gossamer threads wrapped

around my brain

the comfort of cashmere

the light of an incandescent

glittering reflections of sun on water

the billowing of a scarf

in the soothing zephyr

keeping my attention

in apt rapture

Like a marble I roll between my fingers

your name is the ball set rolling

down the lane angled to strike down

every single pin of my stoicism

“Whatever you do, never run back to what broke you.”

— Frank Ocean (via perrfectly)

Something changes the way she moves,

the way her hair is shining,but her mind is dying,

her eyes are oceans,deep,crystal clear,

they're the stars in the sky that watch every night,every year

she's an angel,she's a living dream,

her heart can make you hotter than the sun,

her voice will never make you regret,her name's love.

-t.f.s.

That's wow.

Hopefully -

In seven years I’ll be a different person,

And in my stride

I seem to find

That belief an assertion.

It’s not as if I’m struggling,

To find out who I am.

It’s just that thought of deep unrest is bubbling,

To the surface,

Again.

To be alone cathartic,

Apart from life

A part of life.

To regain my composure,

To ensure I find closure.

There are meanings to these thoughts

These thoughts I feel and hold.

There’s times upon the horizon,

Still yet to be told.

There’s loss upon my path, to radiant perfection.

Wether it be at my hands or through times of inflection.

It’s impossible to feel loss,

Without once having had.

So that’s will be my goal,

A story yet untold.

I’ll collect many more memories, and experiences.

And have myself,

To mould.