flock of synopsis
path-to-personal-eudaimonia:

Photo of the day—Tomatoes & color. #picoftheday #southkorea

path-to-personal-eudaimonia:

Photo of the day—Tomatoes & color. #picoftheday #southkorea

your shame is
flesh eating. and
it is evident through
your breaths, under
your foundation.
seedlings of encouragement
lingering in the cracks,
growing in the deafening
truth you hesitate to be.
don’t let bitter hesitation
change your mind. time
is eager to mold you
with the choices you make
and the way you feel your self
worth, like melted ice cream
on hot pavements. or forgotten
caramel in your pocket. bitter
sweetness is not the after
math. just tears from a
lost soul who tried to
negotiate with the
world.

39 plays

A Heart That Sinks - Fake Space

Ashamed

your past never happened.
in your mind, things feel
familiar, but you don’t
want to feel that on
your ego. so you let
it go. and hope, in
memories, you can
let it slide. and it can
vanish behind brown eyes
of joy that once held my
heart in the most
ethereal way.
sentimental, a
connection
not forgotten.
only tucked away
while the
future rolls on.

That’s why I like the rain; since with it comes the smell of the sky.
You know yesterday
was three years ago
And everyone is out
for themselves and you know
you must fool them all
because no one cares who you actually are
And those rose-colored glasses
won’t last you much longer
So take them off and see
the world for what it is
We are all so scared
and we are all so alone
And none of this will matter when we’re
six feet under
I don’t expect flowers
or sunshine
or rainbows because
the demons always seem
to find me anyway
they crawl in through my ears
Dwell in my mind and snatch
the tattered memories
of sandboxes and popsicles
And once they’ve gotten the best of me
They claw at my ribcage
Until my insides are torn apart
and when they break through my skin
and rip me open
You’ll find nothing but pointless poems
scrawled onto crumpled receipts
And fortunes that will never come true
That’s all life really is
dreams that simply remain dreams
(via no-feelings-no-fucks)
Sounds

old fans and early streets.

"Here. Here’s simple and happy. That’s what I meant to give you."

Beginners (2010)
Mike Mills

After A While (You Learn)

"After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises. 
And you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman,
not the grief of a child.
And you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans 
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure.
You really are strong.
You really do have worth.
And you learn.
And you learn
with every goodbye, you learn.”

-Veronica Shoftshall

my feet are dragging
in the dust of self-pity;
wondering how i got here
and where i’m going.

i’ll keep it simple.
don’t aim low. and
don’t aim too high,
you won’t fall just right.

just be thankful and roll
with the tide into the
coming times.

it sounds
so cliche
but true;

lovers do
as
lovers do
as lovers do.

i felt your eyes grace my body.
it wasn’t just physical.
i could feel the attraction
between your body and mine.
your arms around me;
as we resembled vines
tangled in one another
and our minds entranced
far from where we lay.
the world had stopped
and time went moving
on in shutters.
and all i could think was
don’t let go.
don’t let me go.

you wore
the Mona Lisa’s smile
with the mysterious
eyes of a child.
the town’s local bar
is playing your song.
let’s just play along.
this time, it’s your turn to shine.
we all have to start
somewhere.

Drugs and the Past

when i was younger,
i remember drawing lines
into her bedroom with
her bright red lipstick.
there was a sweet little massacre
drawn onto the wall-

followed by a sweet little massacre of innocence.

she yelled at me.
she would lock me in
my room for hours at a
time. children shouldn’t be
a careless massacre.
her children shouldn’t have been.
she didn’t want to look like
a fool after she had played
the victim in all her star roles.

she was full of anger and self doubt.

when i was younger,
i remember him coaching
my softball team. i remember
how we used to build the biggest
snowmen in weather that
would drown me
to my knees.

i remember watching him
fall apart. it is silly
to look back now, to watch
the way i had played with
barbie dolls, next to a pen,
ink taken out-
it had obviously been used
for something my innocence
couldn’t fathom.
it is silly to look back now,
to the way we played cops
and robbers; making guns
out of the foil- without knowing
that such a thing was something
he played with. but in a
completely different way.

i remember when i was younger
and i’d trace the little foam bumps
on the ceilings of houses, my
eyes trying to decrypt what the hidden
pictures were, like they were my
clouds, and i was getting lost
in them. i’d follow creeks just to forget
how the yelling echoed and pierced;
every time.
i’d get lost in the woods,
with only the creeks to get
me home-
to forget how the resin
stuck to my finger tips
because in my mind
it was just innocent dirt.

i’d follow the creeks until
the water ran out into a
little sliver. and then i
would go back to the
place i called home.

i never really was
sure of what it was.