... non pleasant feelings and situations are always easier than the good ones because usually they're the ones at the top of our minds, nagging and chewing that part of the brain (and heart) just to cause an ache. I shall try, to speak of certain good things, to experiment if it does bring a change to my current aura. So my housemate left for home for his three week annual leave and to waste no time, I cleaned my house to satisfactory levels (having high standards). Before leaving the house and forgetting completely the sense of this post till a week later, now.
Hence, I shall carry this post on with the help of a new pressing against my emotional body. I will run, jump, and fly to wherever and however far this desire shall carry me. I have enough passion for sacrificial requests to be asked. That's perhaps why I view the world differently, minority-ly. I have much to give and fear people might take me all away. I enjoy my shell. Hidden from the world, and how good it feels being so far away whereas the opening is probably just finger-wide. I cannot prevent interventions but I can dodge the fingers of men cunningly side-stepping their heads with fury and vengeance. A walking reflection of the moon, he saw straight in me and had capture my secrets, with fortune of luck on my behalf, he doesn't know its interpretations. With eyes grounded low in humility, I see right up intentions. I desire to be placed in comfort and protection with virginal motives. You handed me a bag of hope, love, and fucked-up passion tied in the creases of its opening. "Take it back!" I screamed. My words were unclear and you begged my pardon. Silence and allowance I answered, shaming in defeat of my lack of will. I must win this race. The finish line has the picture of you holding my bag; of purpose, and dramatic conclusions. Cheers to that!
Hence, I shall carry this post on with the help of a new pressing against my emotional body. I will run, jump, and fly to wherever and however far this desire shall carry me. I have enough passion for sacrificial requests to be asked. That's perhaps why I view the world differently, minority-ly. I have much to give and fear people might take me all away. I enjoy my shell. Hidden from the world, and how good it feels being so far away whereas the opening is probably just finger-wide. I cannot prevent interventions but I can dodge the fingers of men cunningly side-stepping their heads with fury and vengeance. A walking reflection of the moon, he saw straight in me and had capture my secrets, with fortune of luck on my behalf, he doesn't know its interpretations. With eyes grounded low in humility, I see right up intentions. I desire to be placed in comfort and protection with virginal motives. You handed me a bag of hope, love, and fucked-up passion tied in the creases of its opening. "Take it back!" I screamed. My words were unclear and you begged my pardon. Silence and allowance I answered, shaming in defeat of my lack of will. I must win this race. The finish line has the picture of you holding my bag; of purpose, and dramatic conclusions. Cheers to that!
