The Armory

Steal yourself on the edge of this field,
With all of your varities and sun dry alpine.
It’s been an age since the felt of you skin has graced my cheek and the longer the time goes by the more I feel as though I’ll never find you or one similar ever again.
And it’s your lips. Those beautiful rose colored lips.
I’ve been drawn back before and I will be again.
And it’s because of those lips.
Those lips, that draw me to your eyes.
And those are stony cold. Colder than I’ve ever seen a time before.
I can’t be frost and you can’t be spring and all we need to find is a calm beach with the. Correct amount of sand.
One more grain and all storms hellfire and fury will break before you. You and your weeping soul with those stone colored eyes and those beautiful, life consumed lips.
They are what put me here
In this lawn chair amongst a group of people who avoid me on the edge of this dew soaked field at an ungodly 12:54 in the morning.

(Source: loganbyk)

loneliness is a shade and a coward. 

He is a bastard and he is yellow.

I would like nothing more than to see his downfall.

But without him my stock emotion would be a blank stare against a blank wall with blank feelings and colorful thoughts.

I would float through days without more than a whisper of kindness and I would sleep soundlessly through nights with infinite ignorance.

The weight of my words would lessen and the meaning of my height would be for naught.

Much of my existence depends on the existence of loneliness.

I just want someone to have sex with