Journey to Liberation

(Source: soulfulandtrue)

Because I’ve made a prison out of my mind

To capture my thoughts

Strangle the life out of them

And lay them in corners to collect dust

Too many of them involved you

Too many of them involved you

Too many of them involved….

The real problem with pain is that it is

Private.

 You can empty yourself in a room full of people or

 sit behind a sealed closet door alone with your thoughts, razors,

 and tears.

It’s all the same.

No one can ever relate.

I want to possess her,

Her full against my lime green sheets,

dreaming of the reflection of the sun,

crushed star dust,

the way the wind curls her hair,

 and words that end in “me”.

I want to dive into the stillness of her breath,

 recycling itself,

expanding in her lungs,

 sustaining the mind..

that creates the thought…

responsible for that smile.

I want to be on the receiving end..

of her laughter,

mid-kiss,

the smear of red lipstick…

against my teeth…

I want

to be

that close

to her.

Here is to doing shit we always said we wouldn’t

Here is to that miniscule moment when we find ourselves

somewhere we shouldn’t be

shameslessy.

—-usually in the company of some intoxicating, inebriating, autonomic suppressing substance or worse,

someone who doesn’t have two fucks to rub together to give to us.

usually there is someone or something there to facilitate in this—

and that always helps.

Like convincing yourself that— even if this isn’t the first time—it will be the last time!

Right before it hits you and you realize you want to do this again tomorrow and for the rest of your life.

If only it were acceptable.

If only it were something you would repeat in the presence of those who care about you without them wincing or feeling equally as ashamed as you do.

Here is to finding yourself

In compromising positions with someone who you probably wish would love you half as hard as they fuck you.

Here is to find yourself in that moment when you realize they never will.

Here is to finding yourself.

No median.

Only extremes exist.

Holding on so tight you think you can’t survive if one finger slips. . shifts one inch to the…

Being held so tight, you wouldn’t mind losing your breath to lose your life in the arms of someone who couldn’t possibly love you anymore than they do in that moment.

And they don’t know…

it’s all you’ve got.