|Colors and images.|
Sums it up.
forgettingI'm pinned to the wall collecting dead skin cells from all the lovers you've pressed up against me.forgetting by SubstituteSadist
I'm pinned to your forehead like a note your mother leaves when you take a nap.
I'm pinned to the door, swinging aimlessly in an abandoned house that's going to fall apart soon.
I'm pinned to your lips, as they kiss the back of her hand.
I'm pinned to all these beautiful dreams of yours, that are sitting in a forgotten old cabinet in your study.
I'm pinned to every place you've been: England, Russia, France. Here.
I'm pinned to the underside of the coffee table you put your feet on while you watch TV.
I'm pinned to the insecurities you think about when you're alone.
I'm pinned to that relationship you know you should fix, but don't.
I'm pinned to your chest, like the girl in your bed last night was.
I'm pinned to the drops of sweat running down your neck, cold and distracting.
I'm pinned to all the lies you hate yourself for telling.
I'm pinned to your breath, your lungs, your throat, th
My brain was formed when music notes were smashed into a bowl, colored on with crayons and sprinkled with rain.|
I breathe because I love living and also cause its involuntary.
People are all interesting even if they aren't. They are interesting because we all live our own lives no one knows everything about except that one person. They are uninteresting because no one wants to color outside the lines.
I like photography. I like to create images that explode in my head so people can see a bit what my inside looks like. Art is meant to be beautiful. Art is meant to be different. Art is meant to be outside the lines. Society just wants to keep it a secret.
I like music. I can't listen to you if a song is playing. I will be happy or sad or angry depending on the song no matter what. Everything else is irrelevent.
I'm irrational. Illogical. There is no reason for reason anyways. I'm happy jumping in leaves, laying down in the middle of the hallway, and singing loudly with the juke box in Waffle House.
I never understood how people always loved the outcast in movies, or the one character who was different, but in real life people who are different are looked down upon, talked about, and ignored because no one knows what to do or say.
I accept you.
I want to make me better.
People are all so fragile and beautiful in their own way.
Tell me anything.
No matter how bad it gets, its not so bad.
Cause I get to be me
and you get to be you.