"So If I Asked You About Art You’d Probably Give Me The Skinny On Every Art Book Ever Written. Michelangelo?

#let the man rest

The metaphysics of little things

I take an absolute pleasure out of existing day after day my spirit takes a simple turn for the loveliest of sentiments like washing my face in the shower and finding out I own a skin — a rosé, flushed skin and that my face in the mirror is so gentle because I become myself every time I look at it as if I had utter control over my forming substance — stirring cold milk on a hot afternoon

I think the fast paced society we live in currently has brainwashed me into thinking i can upgrade myself and my life just as fast as when i restart my computer or phone. I have forgotten the natural cycles of life… how the moon takes her time to be full or how the crops take their time to grow their fruits. 

last summer i was in love and this winter i miss the warmth of our time together, of songs sung to each other, of poems written to one another, of the hands held, lips kissed, reluctant goodbyes, eager hi-s, of belonging somewhere. this winter my heart is loose in my chest and it rattles every time i recognize the familiarity of a lost love. i don't miss you, i miss us.

Not everyone can afford this madness, i am not tethered to anything, loneliness is a side effect of self medicating,nothing good can come out of infinite apologies;

my tragedy is- my freedom is absolute; it's abandonment at its finest. I am everything my mother warned me not to be.

I have been falling of the edges again. How many times do you hit the ground till you get used to hard ground hitting your body. How many times you get lost in dark just to know that it changes with time even if not to light, but it does change and you can breathe differently. I am waiting for moment that will set me free. I am wishing on stars once again. I hope their kindness find me so that i can move with ease. I no longer wish to drag myself in life. I want to run free.

You ever see a pretty dress, a well-organised notebook, a peculiar balcony or read one line of poetry and get the overwhelming urge to reinvent yourself

I think I love you.

I think I Iove you too much to let you be on your own when I don't trust you. But how do I keep this love alive if I don't trust you?

I think I hate me because I love you.

Am I crazy to love you?

Do you even want to be loved the way I love you?

my heart is fluent in a tongue my mind can't translate. so i lay still on my bed, experiencing a wildness that can breathe me back to life from beyond my grave. tonight i believe in spirits. maybe i am a ghost when i fall asleep; anything is possible this very moment because it is nothing like the one it succeeds nor like the one it will precede. the future hadn't been created when i wrote the last sentence and now i am in it. Ah, to be alive.