Creativity with a little bit of Vodka

I don't know how to say this, but I think IT's back. The rage just puts all the bits back into its place and the creativity, well, it has always been there. Stop it, please, someone.

when people ask me why i like you, the only thing i can do is smile. i guess that's why i like you.. you make me smile.

do this to me =/

So yeah. It's all been in the best of the season, way back when our voices gave us reason.
But yeah, you've made it worse.
We've all grown so much since.
Especially me.
Thanks,
for
making me numb towards you.
Your actions have set the sun on my affairs.
Time to say goodbye.
I hope I can say goodbye.

When you try to get in between the 'will not's and the 'i think i forgot's, or try to salvage the 'please come back's or the 'i regret's then you're wasting time. This measure of yours, well useless if you were to ask me. Memories never fade away. They just lie tucked in the backspaces of our minds, in between our wishes and dreams - right in between them because you know you'll never forget. You think you forgot something but all it takes is a little gesture to set the relapse on fire. And mine is that of the flammable. It'll take all your time just to douse off the heat that you have so willingly clothed yourself - and that which i have so willingly gave.

You'll never forget me. I won't either. We're just trapped in this wasteland that repeats itself all the time whenever wandering eyes meet or whenever well, we just rekindle a bit. So what you're doing is useless because we never forget. We'll try to, so hard. But we never can.

What is it about those that gets me all tied up in a knot? The first question comes down on me like rain on a desert that never sees day or wind that seeks someone to breeze past or... ("You wanna go with me?")("There's a guard") words from your past-midnight lips that just get me. So there I was minding my own business when you come out from your whole night of trying to get the nerve to ask me. Then my wings take your bashfulness aside and take you and my alcohol-filled mind in flight. But I know that I'm not the same as I was before. The immature me would take your offer up, give you a bargain, and just go with it. But I, myself, now, would think about you and the chaos my selfish thoughts will bring. Well, time brings wisdom and time would tell me now to "Think with your head not with your heart" because my heart's so fucked up but my brain's well, not. But time also brings lessons and they would tell me to "Think with your head not with your heart, but let your heart do the doing and leave the brain to do the choosing". Well, lessons learned have been unkind to me. I hope that I would grow up and stop chasing after day dreams.

You're a great friend, but I just met you. So I'm sorry, (as gay as this may sound) I'm not ready, for one such as you.

When every thing settles down to an incomprehensible whisper, because every word said died down before we've bled our indifferences on one another,these remaining instances become a bother. So, when I muster up all those dead promises once again, my actions falter because all those winning words that won your heart so willingly have been an illusion, with no words to back them up. For when my heart chooses to dance with your sober, serious one, I don't think it'll be stable to beat with yours.

For when bits of our intricacies coincide with one another, they give summer suns another day to shine.

For old time's sake-- one more.

For when old eyes pass the words set on ink, relapse. Occuring right now.
Well, maybe next time. Short is sweet. Get it? i dont think so.

Take a hint. In case you can't, come closer so you can hear the whispers that so willingly find themselves to one such as you. So as you come closer, follow these steps because I think that you're a bit illiterate when it comes to the chemical imbalances in my head. cause i, myself, am desperate for pills.

1) Give yourself space. (Because in turn, you make me want you more)
2) Keep an open eye for the differences. (Especially on druken nights and yeah, sober as well)
3) Never sleep because I might come and wake you up, and that's not what you want. (Insomnia)
4) Don't wander on others. (Because it hurts, and when it hurts for me, it kills. So yeah, just kill me. It's easier that way)


Get it? Got it? Good.
Read me.

Summer days again. Better, hopefully.

Paalam

was fun:))

I love Denise Campos.

I make you feel all kinds of shit. You make me feel NOTHING thanks for pissing me off some more.

When forever and always are left hanging on the tip of your tongue, all you can do is let go of them, but in the sense of sincerety, letting go never has a meaning.

CAT hair. Not nice.
I look like a cock with hands and legs.

Thank God for Maria.

As you were.

Ready, aim, fire. I wish this were a real gun so I can shoot you.


And I wish the bullets would fly, so that I wouldn't hear your voice. The sound of it is better, way better than this.

Carry on.

Sorry, I just can't. I don't know if it was the alcohol, but I swore to him that I would never touch you or look at you in that way. But I already touched you and I think I like you but fuck-ex-boyfriends-who-are-still-in-love-with-you. Maybe in a month or two;) :))

Shh.

You won't be able to hear, the sound of your soul desparately trying to find time for itself.
Your life is engulfed by the company of hoping hearts, that only you can douse it's effect.
You try holding on and finding hearts that you don't realize that your heart is the only one you need to fully function. So stop, move on. That's what life is. Learning and Relearning the dark side, God has to offer. So rise up, you may be, after this, the best you have ever become.

You, of my heart, have my heart.


You hold it tighter than any one or anything that these hands soullessly need to cling
on to.
And when much is a do, all i can say is that all roads lead to you--your sweet touch entrances

me with utmost fragrance, i'm lost in your arms.

Your look--you look at me with no sense of pride. Hypnotic yet soothing.

Your voice, your breathe--infectious. Makes all other senses void, except for Perception--I perceive your eyes even though were miles away.

Your eyes--speak louder than all the words every spoken-----even in silence.

And though you're closer, closer than anything of a god has given me, you're still a star--out in plain sight, but still miles away. I can never touch you like how you have touched me.

You, of my heart, have my heart. -- but I can never have yours.