Today I am genuinely and authentically aware of my in-extraordinary self.
I don’t really know how to elaborate, it’s not particularly a bad thing I don’t think. Although I feel like at least when I’m depressed there’s meaning (perhaps, no definitely too much) in my being.
Today I am fully aware that all I am is a rapidly decaying chunk of sentient meat.
Nothing more, probably less.
- Charles Bukowski, The Difficulty of Breathing (via perfect)
I promise to love you:
at 6 am when you’re waking
to go to work, to school, or whatever
road life takes you on;
and when you didn’t sleep well,
your hair is a mess
and your eyes are sleepy.
at 8 am when we say goodbye
for the day and you’re rushing
out the door with a cup
of black coffee, after finishing
a morning cigarette
when your lips taste like
caffeine and nicotine.
at 3 pm when you’re exhausted
from the day and people have
worn you out and you feel like
sighing, crying, and falling asleep
and escaping in afternoon dreams.
I will kiss your forehead,
and wrap myself in your arms.
at 10 pm when you’re heading to bed,
even though you won’t sleep for hours
and you’ll flip through all the channels
tired of dismal newscasts and re-runs.
Especially when we become a human knot
wrapped up in sheets and kisses
at 3 am when loneliness and sadness
do not destroy you, but consume you
and when you weep without an explanation
I’ll kiss your lips, softly and
tell you you’re the absolute best.
When we talk about life
and why winter kills the flowers.
I will love you when you grow old,
I will love you even after that
I will love you if I’m no longer here
I will love you
I will love you
and I will love you.
I promise to love you forever (for Louis) by Amanda Katherine Ricketson (via cyberunfamous)