and I feel as though im going to choke
on my heart, my words, my ambitions,
everything is not settling
it is stuck in my throat
it does not digest
it sits unpleasantly, it’s eyes looking up the tunnel of escape
to a life of bashed dreams and love
i will choke on these words
as the come out
i will choke as my ambitions die out
i will choke before my heart ever really beats
i will choke back all my defeat
I wish that the questions would stop,
that there was no plan b
plan a would suffice to a welcoming society
I wish for once people would revel in my success
no matter if it were a menial raise or accomplishing a doctorate
it is so difficult to strive for more of anything
when people so are skeptical
they never ask, “how grand is that?”
the only ask “why now?” “and what good is that?”
its as though I said I wanted to reach for the sky
they’d pull the stars out, and shroud me in complete darkness
I wish there was an unwavering happiness,
that did not just resonant in my own chest.
How am I to try my best,
as they splatter my colored walls
with paint as white as guidance.
(via escapingintoabook)
(Source: piratta)
we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.
and I hate the smell of tea
it reminds me of the things I could never be
light and simple
dark with heat
singing songs of chirping day birds on the side of chipped porcelain
i need coffee
with its bitterness and cream
heavy on the tongue with no promise of productivity
just an unease of nerves, the jitts.
it makes my stomach turn
with tea in mind, i think i’ll put down this cup
and realize moments later how
i hate the smell of tea
(Source: icanread, via teachingliteracy)
(via modcloth)
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