Status Quo > My Thoughts, Beliefs, Philosophy?

I doubt the veracity of society:
capricious and
fickle and
selective and
demeaning.


Fuck this masculine nature,
the injustice,
the stupidity.


Recluses we will become
if change does not grace us.
Tyrants to appear
if mediocrity further flourishes.


There is no need for disgusting habits -
no need for this box we live in

L'hiver

Cooler mornings,
Anniversaries not celebrated
Reminiscing on beautiful moments
That hold no value


Beauty grows old
Perishes
Yet I grasp those days
Like the diamonds of the World


Months once familiar
Days so slow
They creep
I weep, subtly


Cooler mornings
Means cooler nights
Lonely
Alone.

PURE

Those warm arms held her close to him the entire night, never wanting to let go. He whispered to her until she drifted off away from him to sleep, but the anxiety pestered him all night.

"When will I, 

if ever,

see her again?"

His breath shortened along with the night: how could he confess such emotions so soon? He swore that he'd never tie her down, never bind her into a future that she did not fathom. The minutes were slipping from his grasp, and he realized that life always moves on, even if he didn't. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and laid next to her for the last time.

As he rose from his slumber, he found a brief letter in the place of his lover.

"I couldn't comprehend you.

For a moment, 

I think I loved you,

but only then.

You are too beautiful.

Ethereal.

Pure"

As he drowned in the sands of time, all he could taste is the sweet night he could never erase from his mind, or heart.

Despedida.

You revisited me this morning. Waking me from my deep and deserved slumber, you gently knocked on my memory, and asked to come in. I entertained you, only for a while, but you were earnest. You reminded me of all the beautiful moments we shared: so many, so beautiful, so irreplaceable. You kissed my lips again, softly and honestly, saying goodbye, detaching yourself from me. You embraced me again, warming my heart for someone else to enjoy. You were off, into the distance, and I was revitalized.

D.

Pierce me with those green eyes,
It's a pleasure I'll settle with, for now.

Rely on me for simple conversation,
I'll satisfy your needs, if you please.

Ask of me your solitude,
I won't cross these grey and manipulable boundaries.

Raise me up and tear me down,
I need to be reminded of reality.

Convolusion

My curse

Your blessing.

Take advantage

of staunch loyalty.

I'm here,

waiting

just for you.

What more

could you

want

or

need?

Grey Area

Flying emotions, and I can't get you out of my head:

You might be silently suffering,

and I worry.

There's a level of empathy, but I can't help but care.

Care more for you than a friend should.

Infatuation is perverse,

and given the situation, I too am perverse:

I would love to see you succeed in

happiness,

your passions,

and life.

But under the sick paradigm,

I'm not infatuated.

I'm not infatuated because this is something more.

This is an indescribably grey area,

and I can't help but love it that much more.

Insatiable

Darling, I see you hurting, and I want to go save you.

I see your heartbreak etched on an innocent face,

and I want to shield you from the evils of this world.

I feel the burning desire that you have for her,

and the hatred emitted because of him.

The perverse triangle made,

I can't help but want to make it a square.

I know this is horrible timing, but,

would you,

even for a moment,

maybe consider my character?

I know this is wrong, but my heart leaps for you.

I know I am wrong, but I want more

Can't Be Arsed

I find these grains of what was slipping swiftly in the soft winds of the early fall. Sometimes your presence, memories of, graces me with lovely and lovable moments that we shared. But most of the times, I can't be arsed. Nonchalance and careless emotions drain the life out of what was, much like you had done. I can't be arsed to sympathize. I can't be arsed to empathize. I can't be arsed to love.

But I want to so bad. I want to feel, breathe, bleed, devote myself to Love. I want Love to take authority. I want life to be simple again.

Crooked smile; boyish charm.
Darling, you're much too innocent,
even for my taste.

Love is not in your vocabulary,
nor will I be the one to introduce it.

Not Even Philosophy or Literature Can Cure The Lonely Heart.

I can't continue so stagnantly.

I want to feel the difference between night and day. Taste the bitterness of an absence that its presence is even sweeter. I want to be completely iced over so fire can ignite this lonely heart.

I can't live this life, a facade of cynicism, without Love.

The Comparison That Makes Me Cringe.

How I feared this comparison. How I was stifling and muffling a matured distaste for you. We don't think alike, I'd like to snap, but I see its complimentary nature, to some degree. Academically, we're one the same road; philosophically, I seek Truth and Love. And you don't. Self preservation, how basic of you. Your Id, overdeveloped, and yet I supported it. My idea of Love held me true to you, is this not something we can agree on? If not, then why? I was only as devout as my soul could allow, and my soul was weak, and it allowed for complete potential. Our philosophies, or rather mine and your lack thereof, differ too much: it's in the words you speak. Yet, how do we compare? How are we so alike? How do we inhabit the same world, but different societies? Our intellect, for the most part humanistic in nature, is all that we can share, am I right? I mean, look at the way we function in a world full of mediocrity! I rise above, you fall in love. I cringe at this comparison, and I thought to let you know.