cristian's wordpad & lingering thoughts

dose of Cristianism & other absurdities.

Posts tagged “metaphor

crush

Posted on July 24, 2019

he’s sitting in his shadow match lit. iron sight shifting with his arrow da vinci with a trebuchet. resentment at a younger age don’t think i’ve ever fucking been the same stay still please, so i don’t have to ever aim. heartbeat on my cabernet, gospel on the interlude never into hurting you; but that’s probably hurting you want to hear you love me, but that’s my crawling incertitude I’m sorry. you’ve heard it… too… many times loose lips sink ships on the new delhi line blueberry, thyme, seattle fog on the bloomsbury dime anxiety finds a new adversary for you every time kavinsky playing nightcall nightfall addict. gun-slinging, moonlight absorber eyeball static, upbringing made me too primed for torture leukocyte warlord with a…

fire breather

Posted on October 19, 2018

I’m a fucking fire breather. Breathing fire. Eating dragons, for breakfast who wants some? None of you do I’ve held back for quite some time exerting no strength Ball of fire. Giving the sun spots ink blots and think thoughts disregard your discourse munching on mantras, making mistakes barely i learn from them wake up from nightmares hardly impressed more creative next time, brain laughable sequence, you could never understand i ain’t lazy just smart you work hard i work smarter catch a sneeze in the air yelling from the sidelines telling mayweather his footwork is scarce looking at my mile times like godamn how old is too old to compete in the olympics? facebook shows me gold medal ads the next day your…

prius

Posted on September 18, 2018

i recognize this abandonment pattern. neglect and avoid pushed to the side, suffocate & deprive overwrought. rush to get over the noise stiff arm tactical markup. 1 and death on the goal practically harmless. red zone ballad demarcation change is in constance, conscientious tailored departure mademoiselle, i’ve heard you tell me this often understandable. hatchet & nail in the coffin they could hear us screaming when we’re barely talking ripple effect. tsunami wave/ dimples and neck telling me to hush because someone just called delicate. soft. let this be a lesson resolved inconclusive as it is abusive and sordid usual motive. behaviorist sadist assortment white dress. biting my lip til the flavor is gone entanglement. arthritic, you say. wait till you call some call…

disassociation

Posted on September 16, 2018

you passionately spoke, breathing in between ; about how we’d be able to practically look at each other without speaking and know what we mean. hold my hands. slight facial gesture, radiant beam. on the cusp of extraordinary meaning, emboldened by components we both constructed with our definition of love. uphold the only person i wouldn’t give up. ultralight fixture hooked by the seams. lean over and tell me to be sweet to you. a declaration without question i consented too. something from dreams. dreams realized by coincidence. you see, i don’t believe in happenstance, or the desultory theory. i don’t believe in randomness, or fortuitous grandeur. i don’t believe we told each other we loved each other in our most comfortable ways, because…

tattoo flowers

Posted on May 14, 2018

it’s become more of a habit interval time from interacting with humans irony overlaps boredom and passion kiss away sadness. verbally vie away the synapses blood stained flesh from a rose thorn on a flower. cry self preservation to keep presence remote listen in on private conversations. fly on the wall i, carry disdain like i tattooed pride on my arm in light of today, might as well just be dark people fill rooms with nice decoration my empty spaces are filled in with looming distractions. better me, than you. interaction pencil me in for the 2 o clock in the noon i’ll probably be late for that, too. terrariums. rattlesnake vein photosynthetic approach poached eggs for breakfast right on my porch tap the…

my mother used to say

Posted on October 26, 2017

hi. I’m okay. my name is .. (private exchange) oceanic delight. mariana trench – lets lie on the waves get lied to with promises as you wave your goodbyes the we’ll soon see each others. the i cant wait to arrives gesticulating giant, wide-eyed naivety shine Juan Valdez roast – a vagabonds variant vibe cash valet parking  -pristine ’85 BMW e28. cabernet offswitch. tannins drip from my IV cause i don’t bleed dna deviate from the norm. heliocentric. her face is a star she makes the sun turn violet, and gives rainbows their scars technicolor stitches, wounds wash radiant art do re mi, one way street of living, who’s to say that we are in edens garden, dancing naked to purple rain my dorsal…

i know what i need 

Posted on October 12, 2017

I dont know what I want whether its surface dwelling alone at the swamp or an oak in a marsh, soul searching proverbial want we’re more or less spawns of monsters nobody needs you were my star spangled banner and I was taking a knee subterranean breeze, vitamin pond, still smell your perfume every once in a blue, Dahlia Divin creeps in the room black lagoon creature. months of despondent malaise never under the same moon, but always got in your way every constant is change, every constant in chains the sheriff to my merits, conversation warranted pain follow the tunnel light or continue to walk amongst shade politics, topic delay, boxer on the ropes you taught me to love; but to love to…

fötter day

Posted on June 20, 2017

you can hear the… suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank. dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today virgin diary. anne frank. marie curie disease tinture of rainbow, even if the distance is blurry to me he, who knows the way to zihuatenejo. furlough father. demand you to die when i say so 26 pesos what’s left in your wallet lint and mothball, merryland. experiment omelette. laundromat arcade quarter exchange 2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain these boulders were supposed to be gone when i got here you shouldered me…

unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.

Posted on December 17, 2014

puncturing flows of buttery colors, exposed in post and pre nuptial showmanship. Function control amusing instrumental. effusive, ode to hold this angel to a centerpiece basil, with cloves, of energy that exposed a masterful synergy a weeded rustled drone, that tumblerode a the quietest depiction of the color blue on a petal succulent. moss grows on my archers boot and a straw of my grass clenched by my jawbones a flux of rusty trombones that exude music through it’s metal I’ve heard poetry spoken in crux, bolded by a bellowing, bolstering Underlined by a snake in the grass, it’s so mellow. Just hold me Boisterous. soaked in droves of this sorceress satin She spoke in a language obscurely molded in spanish her lips curved,…

guillotine lust

Posted on December 12, 2014

particle physics; radiation cusps at every speck and a grain that didn’t mean infecting the inflections as your hypothetical claim bite the bullet. swallowing the pistol. it shoots harboring a hollow feeling. sipping miller to boot coil gripped Corona, drowning out social persona were evolving into moths, wallowing towards the murky gray skies. yeah, the coffee! what’s next? marvelous pillow talk over a body of sex heel gone from the left side of my moccasin treads in particular, inarticulate guy with philosophers breath cotton linen robe; tonight i uncover the secrets you stashed underneath the cardinal chasm embedded deep in the cracks try to unfurl the english, through your lips on contours christmas carolers scarf, closed captioned lyrics encore wept for concourse, a few…

Freshly dressed tourniquet

Posted on December 5, 2014

Empyrean cosmos. This feeling I swallow; it’s real. It’s hollow, but there. I know it. It’s growing, a hole full of sorrow, it’s weird. Some sort of eery control. It’s sculpted out a grave in my heart, it’s six feet into my soul. Clay soldier statue that’s woven and wound up by fear. Wounded by perceptions and ousted by fear. I’m used to it, ruthless, I’m near it, I smell, it; I hear. And movements that veer into me, is getting boosted. It’s like every little thing is in motion for me. Emotionally, my blood pumps. it’s mundane humdrum. I’m so used to panic attacks when it happens, I’ve practiced drowning myself to get better at ‘em. Crusted bark falling off the sharp edges…

IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

Posted on November 17, 2014

  its 2am i feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds are chimed the success is a hive. hummingbird wings in slow motion hearing the crickets sing, so monotone yet obscurely composed feels like they’re talking to me, as i walk on the leaves that i cross demure. you’re so provocative. and i’m surely a ghost crunching of autumn, is like a skeleton field for tiny trees in the fall to possess you is a  perfect choice, and you’re as alluring, a host sunbathed petals, drowning in jack’o’lanterns of coffee & pumpkin squash the soggy leaves, after a beer. underneath the frothy assumptions it’s cost me a fortune. ink-jets flew the loss to the profits that’s…

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