Art Probably Wouldnt Exist In The Way That It Does If The World Was Perfect

“art probably wouldn’t exist in the way that it does if the world was perfect”

— peyton fulford (via peytonfulford)

The full moon overdressed for this wearisome sky

subtle intimacy is so soft!! knowing someone’s routine and slowly becoming a part of it. memorising favourite teas and soups and drink orders. good morning and good night texts and messy paragraphs of love written half asleep. nicknames only you know. just!!! small things that say “look how dear you are to me.”

Let go

i want to let go

let go of everything

that's keeping me closed.

i want to untie the knot and unravel the rope

wrapped tight around my body

holding captive

everything that i am.

it tightens further,

squeezing my insides

until my feelings are stuffed into my organs

and my arteries threaten to burst

and bleed blue.

all the frustration tucked into

the nooks and crannies,

coerced out of my heart,

leaving the vessel hollow.

and now it just screams to be filled.

i want to let go and explode,

uncaring of the consequences.

i want to crush

under the soles of my shoes

the titles and expectations

like i did my dreams

for they were 'unrealistic'.

assurances of 'you're still young'

don't comfort me.

let me be young then.

let me be reckless like the rain

as i watch from the safety of my window.

let me live like a storm

that wreaks havoc in a few hours,

the aftermath echoing for years.

i want to be unpredictable

like the weeping clouds that turn

the clementine sky gunmetal grey.

i want to let go.

I want to write you a thousand love letters in the sky and make the sea the eternal vault where our infinite dreams lie. 

e.v.e.

i wonder what it's like

in that head of yours.

is it waves of sadness

pulling you under till you can't breathe?

or fists of regret

crushing you under their weight?

do claws of guilt pierce your skin,

talons drawing lifeblood?

or do flames of greed lick your arms,

scorching your entire being?

is fear your nicotine?

killing you from the inside out

while life without it is unknown to you?

or does a leash of longing tug at your heart,

as you desperately seek

what it is that you long for?

do red clouds of rage

paint your world bloody?

or does a dark cloak of anxiety

cast a shadow over the rest of us?

do you wear a blindfold of jealousy

until you've worn yourself down?

or a mask of annoyance

shutting us all out?

does loneliness engulf you

in a mocking embrace?

or do you spend your time

struggling to crawl out the grave

you dug yourself?

who's the puppeteer

pulling the strings that lift your smile?

is your smile real?

i hope;

i hope it is.

i hope you see it flicker in your darkness;

i hope you salvage a sliver of it—

of hope.