cristian's wordpad & lingering thoughts

dose of Cristianism & other absurdities.

Posts tagged “rhyming

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…

HOT CHOCOLATE

Posted on November 17, 2014

HOT CHOCOLATE I walked out in the cold today. Eyes lazy. Burning cause of my allergies. Dogs chain brushing against his collar. Night time. I don’t like looking at shadows that much, they make me dizzy. Something about the abnormal shape makes my head spin. And they’re so rigid. I smelled something. That ‘time of the year’ smell. It filled my soul with a plush, perfect painting. I like chimneys. Theres something so old about them. I used to look at christmas books with the oil santas drawn with his bushy jolly beard and cheeks. Snow scenario, red and green illuminating the tundras of decembers winter. There’s something so relaxing coming in from the cold, to a nice, warm inside, with nice warm cloth,…

Jigsaw Heart. Try to put it together

Posted on November 17, 2014

See. It’s retribution. It’s emblematic of your initial assessment. It’s been erratic. Every visceral session seems to be coming back to bite me in the ass. Are you pisces? I heard that some pisces were, pretty rad. clueless to the superfluous mix. clueless to what i’m doing or did. am i pursuing a gig. am i pursuing cause pursuing’s a bitch. It’s useless. Every mistake I make, or made is etched in razor blades in every thing i do’ed or i did. and everything i do’ed or i did, is the biggest, single most catastrophic thing on the planet. cristians feelings are an inchworm, nothing to get upset over; it happened. I’m supposed to forget. I’m supposed to act like it didnt even occur…

You know what’s sexy? You.

Posted on December 17, 2013

You heard how I breathe when I sleep or how I did those odd little moan noisesit was funny. I just laughed. At how we laughed.Sad. Now I’m sad over how we laughed.A neptuniun fury. Name it a curtain callThe brim of the acrylic cloth that buried shadows in our lovehallow in the squeaky bed bolted in with rusty lugslunging forth to start the sunup, under covers dried with passionin our eyes their lies a passive, sane, perhaps a way, cause absencemakes my heart grow odder. struck gold. pick axe made out of my own bone. marrow that you’d swallow, diamond in the rough. dronepiling up. glow in the dark. we’d pair up together so close to heart if we were of other genus from the start…

I like fictional books. The main character is always me.

Posted on February 28, 2013

Feel the vectors into orbit, melting into fiscal porn Each waking moment. Exists to mourn the pensive rigor mortis And I hate myself so much every. single. morning. Its like clockwork. Lonesome. Staring in the mirror. See a monster. Bones drugged. Mainly see the errors. Home drunk. Sloppy. With a motor function failure Open palm my soul in one. The shodokans prepared Im off the bat. Im off the case. Im solely here to reap A wad of air I waste. So oddly placed you forget to even breathe. You wake up in your sleep. Catch your breath, and then youre weak Wake to a dim reality that youre never truly buzzed Whole life I never felt hungover. Till I was happy once, then…

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