May 2013
28 posts
Are the lonely mornings worse than the lonely nights?
You are the stars and I am nothing but the relentless air that holds you up
Because I really do enjoy and find satisfaction in staying up until the early rays of morning reading even though my eyelids feel ten times older than I do.
I wrote this last year dang I don't even remember
I like people that have an extensive vocabulary that stretches vastly over the dingy vernacular we practice in this inconspicuous place because it makes conversation more amusing, and it’s nice to find somebody who actually has a clue as to what they’re talking about and seems to hold some knowledge of the hidden words that most people don’t know about since the majority of people that I...
It need not matter how good or bad you are nor how many sins you have done for it is a true fact that we all must fall to our knees and onto our chests one day or another.
Cold hearts and warm minds.
Blank.
Black walls close around me
I can barely breath
A ring of light shines above me
But I know it’s out of my reach
My breaths are low and shallow
The walls start caving in
The floor below my feet dissolve
As I fall into depression
I try to find something to cling to
To hold on to to stop my fall
But there is nothing there
As I feel around the wall
I hit a hard surface...
like thy instagram photograph
A poem by Dannica Ramirez
I want to sleep in the crevices of your soul.
To be with you under a sky of lights while the sun has shied away and the moon has displayed itself above a canopy of stars while the soft hum of music is slowly drifting through the wind and the embers of a slow roasting fire is crackling away, is a place in which I would like to be in all aspects of my timeline.
And in the darkest of my nights I could see nothing but the luminosity of the pretentious sight of what could only be what is left of the universe.
Northern Lights
And the stars would dance. They would dance with each other, mixing in with the clouds and the moonlight, as bright lights cascaded from the sky, as the sky was happy. But as to why the sky was happy we do not know. It is a knowing that will never be known, as well as why lights that shine from the sky intervene with the wind, making shapes that only the most imaginative people can identify....
I feel very fragile—like I’m a glass vase inside a brown box with the FedEx logo on it without any bubble wrapping or styrofoam in the box with me and I feel like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces and the FedEx guy isn’t going to care and drop me off anyways.
Sooner or later we’ll all be pigments of another person’s imagination, and all that will be left of us will be the memories that we shared with another.
I want to feed on your thoughts and swim in your blood. I want to drown in your soul. I want to sleep on your lips—paint your veins. I want to caress your mind and pulse with your heart. I want you to be my home.
My thoughts are over-exaggerations that vary from the pits of emptiness all the way to the gates of the clouded regions. My thoughts are multiple annotations in a book called My Life.
Which sucks.
Her smile was like the last day of a vacation: sad and waning.
If you’re actually here thanks dawg gonna update this as much as I can :-)
In the late hours between us there was such a strange casualty.
It was as if I could brave my soul yet contain my mind.
I was equipped with the full knowledge of your inglorious reputation yet could not restrain my heart.
And it was in the late hours that filled our coffee mugs and lit up the windows that I could indeed allow myself to be overwhelmed with your quiet ramblings and soft hums of...
We are in darkness
Sparks from your cigarette
Dance with the night
They are like stars
And you are the sky
I am the moon
If you asked me
I would never stop shining
Even with the sun
We are the galaxy
Smoke from your mouth
Tails from comets
Raining down
Into black holes
You are the sky
I am still shining
We are the universe
Unknown
Forever
Bathing in asteroids
Winding...
Winter was on the way; I awaited it in an eager state of mind. Winter was the best season: it was shivering in layers of fabric, or sleeping while the warmth of the heater lingered in the crevices of my skin; Winter was burned tongues and frozen fingers; it was a golden sun enveloped beneath a cluttered charcoal sky; but most of all, Winter was home.
I read people’s writing, and I see people’s drawings, and I listen to people’s music, and I think
‘Wow. What a beautiful mind must they live in?’
But then I realize it’s mostly likely not beautiful to them.
But I believe there is so much color. Like a rainbow caged in a glass box.
It is filled with wilted wild flowers and a faltered yellow sun. Black sand beaches and overcooked food. Off...
On the first day of spring It was very warm The flowers bloomed Such as our love
On the first day of summer The nights were hot The flowers grew Such as our love
On the first day of fall One by one The flowers shed Such as our love
On the first day of winter It was very cold The flowers died Such as our love
The reason why human society is so corrupt is because we are so hesitant and stubborn to open our minds to things that are unknown in our common world. We are so engaged and infatuated with statements and facts that can be proven logically or scientifically, that we forget about the lenience our minds are created to withhold. Perhaps the paranormal happen, yet our mundane selves just don’t want to...
Home is where the wildflowers lay and the sun is enveloped in a cluttered sky, on a never changing chilly world, where the moon smiles and the clouds cry.
What I wrote at one in the morning (format needs to be cleaned up a bit)
He was the secret pathways in the secluded forest The dark alleys when the moon floated in the air like an incandescent balloon. He was late-night drives and breakfast for dinner. He was the mispronounced street names and the pavement after its rained. He was the imperfectly ripped sheets of paper, and the leftover...
He told her, “Whenever I see you I think my Oxytocin levels go up—in a good and bad way. Good, meaning I feel like I’m falling into a deep trench of cotton candy—and bad, meaning you cause me pain such like Oxytocin does when they create contractions for women in labor; or that’s what my mom told me, at least. But then again that pain doesn’t equate to the pain you made me feel when you broke my...
