Ir al contenido principal

I've been here before...

I've felt this before. I'm tired of this situations, but I've felt this kind of confusion. It's exhausting. I'm sick of the sadness, the reflexive moments, the lost period, the stupid things and ridiculous consequences because I'm always too far away. I don't want to be saved, but I don't want to be lost. I'm tired of the drama.


I just want to go, find a place, feel the sun... I don't want to feel this over and over again. I don't want to get lost. I don't want drugs, I don't want pain, I don't want sex, nothing will be able to heal this. The cure should be much more straightforward. The cure should not be avoidance.


The cure neither is someone else. Every situation has lived inside my head and made the person who I'm now, but it's difficult to accept that. I've made of pain and blood. I'm just the remnants of what I wanted to be, but the remnants are still there.


I don't want to be the result of this moments, but every time is harder to hide. I'm walking like dead, but I'm still walking around. For the first time, I want to be smart.


The mechanism is now perverse if I feel the pain I have to decide. But if I need to make decisions I look for the pain, because it is the situation I know I can choose. I've made so many mistakes because of my pain. I don't want to decide based on that.


For now, it is the route. I'm my past as I am my decisions now. It's time to clean on; I'm so tired to carry one more thing.
Etiquetas:

Comentarios

Publicar un comentario

Entradas populares de este blog

It was just another time

It was a moan, it was her breathing.  It was the end of innocence.  It was not only the curiosity of the time,  it was the hidden feeling behind.  It was just a kiss, why not?  It was just the fifth bottle of champagne.  The good times need the best liquor.  It was then just a try.  Just her hand in her hand,  it was just a witness surprised.  It was just a moment to stop,  it was just a time to look at the eyes.  It was then the next song,  it was a weird time.  It was another kiss in the eyes.  It was dancing together,  it was falling behind.  It was just another kiss, then another one. It was that electric feeling,  knowing that something is going to end bad.  It was just the delicacy of the moment,  it was just a time.  It was not passionate or wild,  it was curiosity and discovery chance.  It was touching here a...
Publicar un comentario
Leer más

Useless

I asked a poet to write about you, in the middle of London, next to the river. It was announced he could write anything on paper, at any rate, all the times I wanted. I told him who you were. I used my best words to describe your soft and shiny hair. I spoke about the darkness of those eyes, the strength living in their colour and the power they have to look. I tried to detail the delicacy of your nose and the softness of your lips. And I stopped there and came back in the sensations you were provoking. I had no words for the miracle of your smile. It was automatic; it should be there. I went down to your neck, soft and clean, always smelling like the sweetest perfume that makes me feel lost. Then your shoulders, then your hands then your breast. I got crazy of telling him about the miracles living in the waist and the storms you provoke in your hips. And then I went on. And then I couldn't stop. Your legs, the way you walk and the incredible sensations you were producing...
Publicar un comentario
Leer más

If you were another piece of words

I would be worried, sad, bitter.  If you were another piece of words.  I would be desperate in the middle of loneliness. Craziest paragraphs would be the centre of my anxiety. If you were another piece of words. I would build the perfect world in one line. Give it to you in a paper. I would find a thousand of ways of solving problems  Put each one next to your nice hair. If you were another piece of words I would not ask you to believe,  To take the risk of what you feel,  to embrace the  best moments of your life. I would be desperate finding the wrongs I would be crazy counting the lies. If you were another piece of words. I would test now my new theory,  Write you six stories, three arrangements, two rhymes. After the word line 76 you would begin to vanish. At the 100th line for sure you would be gone. If you were another piece of words, You could open a new post, Be the secret reason for someone to read Find a new lover or maybe ten,  I wouldn...
Publicar un comentario
Leer más