"Because dreams don't have to hurt like life does." -Yellow

p h o t o b y t h e w o n d e r f u l : alec schuppel

Here I am.

with a suitcase full of feelings.
and the clothes on my back.
my heart is on my sleeve.
but i hope you cant see.
cause i feel lost when your around.
and when your not
i become hopeless.

vultures

i dream of vultures.
watching me with their haunty eyes.
seeing through my shades of pink and orange.
to the bloody insides.
the places that are dying.
the sores festering under leggings and braided hair.
my yellow jacket and blue beret.
they wait for me.
and watch the deterioration.
only they can see.
only i can feel.
the vultures and i.

vomit

I want to be good. I want to be good to you. Not so fucked. Fucked by love and those other emotions.
I hurt people. I know I do.
But I am so grateful for those who stay in my life. Who deal with my bullshit. Those who love me for all of my faults. For all i have done. to their precious souls.

I know i have been treasured. and I have been saved. I have taken my chances and thanked my lucky stars. I have been loved unconditionally and torn apart recklessly. I have been misunderstood and stepped upon. And i have been taken forgranted. But i have loved. and still do. To the deepest degree. Shattering my own heart, to create new ones. brave ones. Memories people wish to hold onto. and keep in a different part of their minds. a special part. but only memories.

And i hurt so bad. My tears are bitter. a curse upon my own selfishness. confused and reckless.

but i cant let you go. i cant let anything as beautiful as you go. so i let the beauty of our broken relationship consume me. and intoxicate me. and drown my lungs out. until i float to the top of my very own mess.
i damn myself. because i know i could be happy.

i come to the conclusion i should not love. because my deep and passionate love is also fatal. self destruction. double homicide.
i love so much. but hurt all the same. i dont lie. not anymore. i mean what i say. i just cant always follow through.

writing my life out. a stream of consciousness. not so conscious. a story of impulse and tragedy. the kind where the main character is to blame for the downfall. the crime. the accident. the unhappy ending.

Tragedy

The longer i go through this life of mine, and the more people i meet, the closer i come to understanding my life as a tragedy. with the fall of the main character, the irony and despair.

lovers letter

like cursive on a letter from your lover
each word flowing to the next
painfully carving out the distance
the longing you have tried to suppress
left beautifully on the creased paper
i wish to dismiss you
to let you be
just a tender thought
a stained memory
locked away
untouched by reality

0 to 3

When I come home,
I feel crazier than I did before.
All of my needs are shrugged.
All of my hopes are dissipated.
I am more alone,
more angry,
more depressed.
I am a let down.
I am a disappointment.
I have taken three steps back,
Zero steps forward.