cristian's wordpad & lingering thoughts

dose of Cristianism & other absurdities.

Posts from the “WRITING” Category

close to regret

Posted on February 17, 2015

He doesn’t feel close to anything Friends are placeholders for emptiness He sings to himself while watering plants or he wants to. He doesn’t even grow plants Does thing he regrets, does things he doesn’t Regrets them both. Regret that he’s done it or did it, or was, or wasn’t. Heartbroken. For what? How does a heart go from golden to rot I look at pretty faces, just hoping for something Laugh at the way people conduct themselves Conducting in stealth. Ask for help by pretending I don’t need it I don’t. Just need me some hope. Establish a ground rule, establishing sound. Down on his self. Doesn’t brush his teeth today Memorizes the Braille his plaque forms Doesn’t care, kills themselves in the…

at the doors

Posted on February 12, 2015

im in love with you, but I don’t want to be.
I blame you for my woes, but it isn’t you
you were just a tiny percentage
a smidgen of hope I hung unto, the glimmer
barely, there like the painting of glitter, the spark in the thinner edges of my mind
there was a hug you gave me once, at the step of your door, after you came
back. I knew you so well, I had a gift for you, I forget what, I want to say flowers. Your silhouette marched behind the glass doors. you didn’t know it was me. I’ve been messaging you, tiny hints of my departure, which you didn’t totally pick up on. You opened the door. And I uttered words, that didn’t matter, like…

Explosives can be a growth experience

Posted on January 14, 2015

tired of decomposing, dried up, my dreams are dozing my body has peaked the opus, through godly retreat. I hope. trying to feel a pulse, pariah that feels opposed pinching my gripe, controlling. picture my mind in solace pitching and writhing, gritting and grinding my teeth to focus witch-doctors reveal a poem, my palms have been reading growth exhausted. my beings broken. loathe signs that concede to smoke I need the tar to feed compulsions. exhaust that secretes emotions. tyrants as deacons, posing; goliath as people cloaking a lion in sheeplings clothing, a tiger that feels repulsed about the lines that he sees his coat in. why do i feel insulted sonnets revealed in quotient, to qualm this conceited ghost but while i sleep,…

CAMBRIDGE

Posted on January 6, 2015

fire place with tourettes. pop and crackles in depth drunkenly asking questions I wouldnt dare. I was shy recherché brunette, with curlicue braids in her head there’s a reason wine glasses are in the shape of a Y fork in the road, left or go right, slicing tension with knives I went left, it felt right. spooning you cus’ the etiquette’s nice drinking the truths I fed you, intoxicated with lies sedated and high. i’ve contemplated for help what kills you isn’t the virus, it’s the inoculation itself it’s what helps you, and what hurts you; it’s complicated as hell whatever. that isn’t what I wanted to say I wanted to go, but in jest I wanted to stay it’s getting awfully late. capturing…

Fireworks

Posted on January 4, 2015

Dreams and reverie boasts Roasted with pearly green chimerical gold God Delusion. Hallucinating a miracle told Where lightning strikes the conscious Lively minded. Constant. Smile by a goddess Where perfectness unfurled by Pangaea Curvy hips, sangria and rooftops Inebriated in a sea. with a jukebox Charismatic, dispelling drama. adorable gospel sings for the saga approaching Americanah and rooted, salsa and dance Savannah beauty, with a lot to command sailor of wisdom, a body tailored for rhythm samba routine, enigma. for her frolicking waist Marvelous taste. Whiskey and fruit wine Yin and yang in spirit. Spirits and moonshine Clamoring percussion, fireworks on the eve ten seconds for eruption, heart on her sleeve little black dress, static libido attracted me. magnetic tuxedo countdown in Manila, 3…

I didn’t want to believe it

Posted on January 3, 2015

Im sitting alone at the cosmic stump. Sipping my soul & I’m Vodka drunk Thinking of goals. I’ve not have done Fission control. visit me in my head Cataclysmic logarithms. -picture dreams that are dead Bickering silence, word by word I fell in your haiku only heard what you wanted when I tell I love you Nervous, respond. I fell in the lust pool mouth of sin, out of breath a spell was cast on my lungs too she promised me passion, she promised me endless a synonym for forever. All I got was a toxic expansion mantras to mansion. so deceptive it hurt quoted my tantrums. like an excerpt from a book don’t mention the looks. I wonder how you mention me now?…

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