charliehalo

Letters written with reckless abandon ink on paper with irrevocable passion Words and scented paper in an envelope, in your hands. a special surprise, meant for your eyes Stained with tears and so much want Forever to be treasured and fade with age Torn up in heated moments, clasped in desperate times This is no more What is this? Love is a notification A ringtone, something that needs usernames a password, but not breathed secretly on lips. Love is a status on your wall Will they ''like'' it retweet, bbm, direct message This intense romance Nothing will stop this love except perhaps a bad internet connection Can be disco

“What?” A mix of skeptical, bewildered, mildly impressed And sometimes a little disgusted. “You listen to rap?” Behold, a specimen of middle-class suburbia Spectacled, pimpled, messy-haired Painfully awkward, unquestionably nerdy Oh, and female, let’s not forget about that. “Haydn and Beethoven; yup, that’s definitely your jam During your late-night chemistry revision sessions On your wild nights, maybe some Katy Perr – wait, what? You listen to rap?” Yes, I listen to rap (Although I do still listen to Haydn Toting Bach and Biggie together Gets you strange looks from HMV cashiers, let me

don't fade away! eat vitamins walk in the sun make the time to take the time to breathe and be the beauty that surrounds you recapture your spark! eat with your hands and talk to strangers from the proper angle every face looks like an angel's each moment bears the makings of a miracle have a little faith! throw caution to the wind leap without looking life would lack for love without a little falling find the future full of feeling at your fingertips

the future lover is judging the duration by the a- mount of empty chairs arranged at your reception and the future lover winks an eye for two who are counting couples coaxing couplets from the tulips while their true lips are mouthing matching movements to human hips in hopes of coming all unglued and the price of every present is the former you ready for resentment or the never pleasant persistence of forever non-existence

I could cater to the base space breaks to their fave shapes 'til our poems share the same face take bites and bite takes so we spit similar bits (mouths full) of the same bad taste spew flowery text to equate words with waste while wanton watchers tie tongues and damn with faint praise then race to (re-) create more supposed "prosetry" for the masses to embrace drain the passion from my pen and emulate their tired states united by a flagging declaration that theirs is the form to trace but I'd rather run my game and let the world give chase

for the better of worse I was made this way dropped different & drifting some distance from divine a tool gifted with the breath to blame its maker what nature has nurtured these cells will divide I can't figure out the life of me for the life of me omnipotence or at least no impotence fostered conception (with no conception) of immaculate design of the miraculous as mine the impetus of this existence often impetuously inclined despite whomever's taking measure the descent is never kind forgotten's all I'm getting we're all given up by time

they say our forefathers fought for this but my emancipated belief is the state of these united shapes today would break their hearts into fifty pieces Anomalous lady in incandescent light we are kinless - and foreign but your dress I clutch vainly at its hem, with its infinite stars, and lines that never cross. this freedom counts costs in loss and lives reviled and resized to slip through cracks displaced displayed on dollar signs Why shiver in your own confines? The telescope's ring has worn thin, a constant coast-line vigil, searching for midnights, scanning the skies for fireworks but what's worse is

and in this one odd instant I am proud of us each parading our own quiet existence amidst the persistent tribal drums and giddy fanfare skipping each generation placing the next proudly proclaiming its features refined we keep waiting for the shape to make itself plain in the paper allowing us those fragile moments to bathe in color to trace and there are parts of me I've only just discovered there is a personal gravity and orbit there is something of desperate beauty trying to claw itself out and something about recorded moments that speaks only of insignificance these things that beckon and blind

last night, i dreamed of you. i spoke to your mother and walked her home and she invited me in for christmas dinner.   your sister was there and she squealed when she saw me but you sat on the stairs and said what are you doing here? in a strange voice. as if i didn't belong. as if i had never belonged. and i sat on the stairs beneath your feet and you played a guitar and sang me a song about how everything doesn't matter because it's all in the past and how i'm good, but not good enough because you want someone who you can order around and your mother passes by and she says to you you want someone to be me for you. and t