head cracked open

It'd be like my head cracked open on the concrete sidewalk and my mind spilled out, exposing my innermost thoughts and feelings. Everyone would crowd around and gasp in shock. It's appealing in a way, the idea of being completely and utterly honest with the world, or at least a few select people. To tell them how I feel, to tell them anything I please. Then sit back and relax, waiting for their response, their reaction. And after this grand revealing of all that floats around my conscious mind, I could live without regret. I wouldn't have to worry about the 'what ifs'. But as deliciously appealing as this sounds, I am a coward. I keep a majority of my feelings trapped inside my head and stream of thought. I wouldn't count on them being spilled on the sidewalk anytime soon. Just blank pages meant for my eyes only. I'm not quite prepared to display my insides, my beating heart, my organs. It's all the same, isn't it? My scandalous decisions, my lungs, my vulnerable side, my liver, every part of me. There's just something so charming about telling someone your entire life story, sparing no details.

Bones of gold. Bones of silver.

(Bits and pieces of writing)


Tongue-tied teenagers,
Kissing under trees,
Rustling, leaves fall,
The youth lost control,
Lost innocence,
Lost in the forest.

We are all trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. Our own personal struggle. trying to make sense of everything around us, everything that happens to us, everyone we meet. It's all one big puzzle, but we're missing pieces. Happiness. Bliss. Success. A Soul Mate. Meaning.

The glamour and darkness of rock and roll. The sweat and drugs, black leather and bare chests. Sex on stage.

The moon, the stars, the universe, fireworks to the eyes. grand spectacles of great proportions. I am so tiny in the grand scheme of things. The vast corridors of space surround me, going on forever? The mind boggles, cannot comprehend it. The stars, the universe, galaxies, such a sight. truly eternal, for all the ages to see. Generation after generation, dynasty after dynasty. All the centuries, all of the civilizations can gaze upon the very same stars, the very same moon, the very same sun. It is a wonder.


We all walk around with our personal tragedies. We feel alone and cold deep down. But there is a glimmer of hope hidden. We all believe things can get better. Inside of us we hold our optimism dear to our hearts. we grasp onto it with our stubborn, clinging hands. Hoping that our charcoal, under all this fucking pressure, will transform into a diamond. We won't give up. We want so desperately to touch or be touched, but we're too afraid to reach our hands out. Maybe if we just reach out, open ourselves up. if we slice ourselves open, expose ourselves, be honest. Maybe it'll work. Maybe we'll be okay. But we have to do it together, there's power in numbers.
WE DON'T HAVE TO BE LOVERS TO LOVE.