Anarchy and Order

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Silence

I wish I could sit with someone and meditate.

Not in any form of sexual or relational way. Just a friend, and we go to a quiet place and sit and fall silent. We become part of the atmosphere, rather than disturb it. There is a specific community when you draw inward, and its absolutely beautiful and…. different. 

When you truly just fall silent, when two people sit across and don’t say a word, then both are listening to each other’s souls rather than their words.

I just honestly am curious to find out what mine would say to another.

taintedwings:

kawky:

So what do you do when you grow weary of the city you reside in?It’s simple. You leave. 
You drive yourself out to shore, away from the skyscrapers and deafening city noise. You eat lunch in the company of the ocean, armed with a tuna sandwich and dangling your feet over the edge of the Bay Bridge, with no intention of jumping this time. You run slow motion through crowds of seagulls, blanketing them in your arms and scattering them in a beautiful wave of white. You sit outside a waterfront cafe, listening to childhood memories flood back in the form of vanilla on waffle cones. You sleep upon the moss-flavored pier, the sun kissing your tired eyes, you lick clam chowder out of bread bowls and off your fingers, you visit antique shops that sell pretty bottles of sand, and you smirk as you catch a waft of that nostalgic odor upon the docks. And most importantly, you learn to forget about life for a while as you lean back and catch the breeze on your tongue while lounging on a navy sailboat, hopping upon the waves out into the welcoming arms of the harbor. And at the end of the day, you crawl back into your warm bed back home and snuggle safely under the sheets, knowing that you didn’t study for a single final, and yet you’re as content as ever because you came home smelling exactly like fresh sea salt.

Let’s go.

I’ve packed my bags.
But unfortunately, my friend, someday, someday that journey doesn’t end there.
Because one day, one day…. you come to a point where the place you live has lost meaning.
And then you go out and leave smelling like sea salt and warm sand, and you venture forth, to finally find a new home.

taintedwings:

kawky:

So what do you do when you grow weary of the city you reside in?

It’s simple. You leave.

You drive yourself out to shore, away from the skyscrapers and deafening city noise. You eat lunch in the company of the ocean, armed with a tuna sandwich and dangling your feet over the edge of the Bay Bridge, with no intention of jumping this time. You run slow motion through crowds of seagulls, blanketing them in your arms and scattering them in a beautiful wave of white. You sit outside a waterfront cafe, listening to childhood memories flood back in the form of vanilla on waffle cones. You sleep upon the moss-flavored pier, the sun kissing your tired eyes, you lick clam chowder out of bread bowls and off your fingers, you visit antique shops that sell pretty bottles of sand, and you smirk as you catch a waft of that nostalgic odor upon the docks. And most importantly, you learn to forget about life for a while as you lean back and catch the breeze on your tongue while lounging on a navy sailboat, hopping upon the waves out into the welcoming arms of the harbor. And at the end of the day, you crawl back into your warm bed back home and snuggle safely under the sheets, knowing that you didn’t study for a single final, and yet you’re as content as ever because you came home smelling exactly like fresh sea salt.

Let’s go.

I’ve packed my bags.

But unfortunately, my friend, someday, someday that journey doesn’t end there.

Because one day, one day…. you come to a point where the place you live has lost meaning.

And then you go out and leave smelling like sea salt and warm sand, and you venture forth, to finally find a new home.

I am a dead man lost in the coffin of flesh

And shell within a shell

Words come out of my mouth,

But do they mean anything? 

I suppose not. 

For that would be too human of me.

Ah, Poetry

How I love to be back in its warm embrace.

My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
‘til then I walk alone

—Green Day

Us dutifully studying apush (Taken with instagram)

Us dutifully studying apush (Taken with instagram)