beauhemia
Jim Morrison (via zephyrstorm)
(Source: existentialistsadness, via marvel-ust)
When others demand that we become the people they want us to be, they force us to destroy the person we really are. It’s a subtle kind of murder … the most loving parents and relatives commit this murder with smiles on their faces.
sometimes whats going on my head never fully makes it to paper. It’s hard to describe my side, my feelings through such an adolescent language. I wish there was a way to describe the sparks and fires of thoughts in my head.
Wire wraps, wrap skirts etc.
New wire wraps and other hippie gear to be posted soon send me a mess about custom things
“incandescent”
Knows the worst,
And it’s still okay,
Don’t you cherish me the same?
Hold me so awfully close,
So its stormy out there,
little waves of frighting stares,
Swollen ocean of lightly blue,
Sticky spliters stuck in you,
Wake up to a soften breath,
Lighted brush strokes tease you,
Whispered warmth, goose bumped tissue,
Heavy lids, strain to open
There is still a light,
Your incandescent lips, linger.
“sleeptalk”
Everybody’s talking in their sleep,
End up pushing a lot of air around—-
not saying much of anything,
Such is life,
I’ll see you at the finish line, sipping ferment,
Inhale warmed fumes—-
Flower looks good in your hair,
And if I die play “escape” at my funeral,
My life has been nothing but beautiful,
I ain’t here to make you,
But I’m a parasite,
Such is life,
Your hands can bruise,
Sick for days, move too fast,
Nothing to slow me down,
Now I let the others pass,
Time gets tough, and gets tougher—-
Hold onto me, I got you
Everybody’s talking in their sleep,
I’m the one who’s gonna show.
“daydream”
I remember you well in the placid sun beams,
You were dark, so rigid, and so free,
We were running from the money and the flash,
But those were the reasons, and I was restless,
Just turned your back on the flock,
Came back, clenching your face,
Oppressed by the figures of melancholy,
I don’t even think of you that often.
I remember you well in the frozen daydream,
You were gone, so pale, and so scared,
The sky cut open by iced rain,
Gave away your smile and laugh,
Empty eyes, dry bottle,
Miss the days of lucid deception,
Shrewd troubled strangers sugaring your perception,
And I grew tired, and left with nothing to say.
“Henry”
He’s a little bean, wrapped in tight,
Smiles and watches listens for new sounds,
He already started to lift his head, 45 minutes in,
I could loose my mind, loose my sleep.
Looking for the prize of my blood,
Curls his lips to smile,
Rosemary, peppermint, fingers linger,
Freckled, sweet strawberry kissed,
Still so tired, loves banjo, and whiskey’d song,
But that face, little nose,
I got the one with the sweetest ways.
