I made a facebook page for my photos, please 'like' and share if you would be so kind. ^^
Insomniaongoing internal conversationsInsomnia by Shamoneness
cloud what reality is slowly
sinking out of me
night shrounded in thoughts
distracting the unconscious
from drifting into dreams
and crippling the day
.smiling rays,. by Shamoneness
i drop a cliff note on
perspective and changing
pieces by the
closer in the
midst of post-
at the clamoring
whispers in pre-
wild and transparent
deciding days of
places stuck in
entryways ending in
It's hot in my apartment even if you're not hereWhy do I wake up,It's hot in my apartment even if you're not here by TheStoyTeller
halfway drowning in sweat and rattling thoughts
about who you could be,
candles in my room down to their wicks end,
and me just laying in bed for a few hours.
the worst part is that you're not ignoring me.
I could call you up,
lasso a conversation like we never left our last one
tell you I love you like always
but it's worse
because you would only ever be half there.
I could never have all of you,
could never take the full moon for what it is.
so why do I try to sleep,
with a wild hare up my ass
about what could have been of us,
candles burning brighter and hotter
than all of the solar system,
drowning in perspiration
when I know I'll just lay in bed for hours.
Under the Willow TreeHomeUnder the Willow Tree by Aerode
Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, there existed a young girl who loved to paint. She did so many things with only the tip of her fingers. She painted the sun orange, the oceans blue, and the grass green. One day, she noticed a paintbrush lying under the willow tree.
"What is this?" she asked, for she had only created with her fingers. "Where did it come from?" She received no reply.
She was a curious girl, and instinctively dipped the point into her maroon paint. Streaking the brush across her paper, she gasped.
"It works so much better than my hands!"
She swooped and swooped with the brush until the sun dipped, and smiled the whole time. It was growing dark, however, and the girl was tired. She collected her things, sealed off her paint, and slept beneath the arms of the willow tree.
The young girl grew accustomed to the paintbrush, and began to favor the instrument. She drew nature more vividly, and the grass was a brighter shade of green. The ocean and sky bl
"This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me."|
— Franz Kafka