Tomorrow is a constant struggle
Why are we so desperately striving
To leave foot prints on seashores
That will wash away all memory of our journey
Tomorrow
When it decides that drowning
Is so much better than getting walked all over
And why do we waste too much
Of our lives
Hoping to leave
A mark of our existence—
The world is wounded
The universe is tired
Your hopes are broken,
It’s time to make things happen
While I can not cure your hate
and I learnt not to carry any more burdens
than the weight of my own curiosity
anchoring me to street lamps
and park benches,
I’ll leave these words
Just by this fountain,
In good faith that you’ll give your
Last quarter to destiny
There are rusting stars down there,
But I have faith, I have faith.
I’d find her interesting, pitiful and annoying. I couldn’t be her friend-we’d never see each other. She doesn’t let anyone in.
We’ll suffocate each other even from a distance.
But I’m a terrible friend
I’m a pretty great stranger
I’ll lend you a pen if you need it
And sometimes, I’ll even let you keep it.
I’ll ask you how you are
And actually care;
I’ll tell you which bus to get on
Or which restaurant has good food;
I’ll listen to your problems
About the people I don’t even know
About the places I’ve never been
About emotions I’ve never felt.
I’ll give you an answer
That people who know you
Would not have suggested.
Because I can see you without the insecurities they see
Without the imperfections they’ve known
Without the past that they use to shape you
Into the image they understand
And into the one you never did.
I’m a pretty great stranger
But I’m a terrible friend
We’re better off from a distance,
Trust me.
I’m the unnamed moment in between
The opening and closing of eye lids.
Do not ask to see places of me I have not yet myself ventured in ;
My mind will hostage you.
And I’ll put you into poems
You’ll be robbed of your identity.
And I’ll leave you with nothing except
False moments
When I said that I was capable of believing.
So please, don’t love me either.
Don’t follow a misdirected compass;
I’m just broken arrow and cupid made a mistake.
“We’re constantly living life pretending that there’s fewer choices than there really are.” — Ze Frank (via maxistentialist)
“How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.” — David Foster Wallace’s The Pale King (via nequiquam)
India: Moral crisis
In 1943
There were three
Million people
That died of hunger
In Bengal
There was a food crisis.
But see, food production in India
During that early period of 1940
Was a reaching it’s peak
It was country ripening as a
New modern world
A fruit grown from the roots of inequality
Planted by the West in their own backyard;
A fruit for their taking.
A fruit injected with poison because they weren’t the right colour
A fruit without seeds, perfectly ready to be consumed.
A fruit hanging off branches of western culture
Because it was decided that they were no longer worthy of standing on their own.
It was, supposedly, a season of blossoming
So why
Were people rotting
In the streets like
Rhagoletis pomonella.
Their stomachs still hungering for hope
Their dry tongues still waiting for water.
There was no food crisis
No shortage in supplies.
There was a failure to distribute
A shortage in equality.
In 1943
There were three
Million people
That died of hunger
Some, in front of bakeries
Some in front of groceries.
There was no food crisis
No lack in supplies.
There was the establishment of entitlement
The dictation that living now came at a cost
And for many the price was their life
This was no food crisis
No lack in supplies.
Only the lack of humanity
melodiesofqueens
Very sorry for my slack effort in responding!
Of course, this question is so very vague and I’m completely blind, context wise. But I think in general,it would depend if you knew for sure that you have explored as many avenues as you could. Now, obviously, you can never know this for certain. But you can only ever go with what you have anyway.
I think its more important that when you make which ever choice, you accept it. You accept that you made a decision to stay or to leave. You made a choice, so don’t look back, don’t look for more. Change it if you want to but don’t deny the present.
I hope you’re well! :)
Preference of a perfectionist
I grew up preferring
Red roses over white daisies
Painting, over poetry
Home, over adventure
Facts, over faith
Let me rephrase,
I grew up
Hoping I could be preserved
In a frame that would hang
On a nail pierced on a wall;
Determined to become
A part of something
That could withstand the rain
Without rusting.
And I preferred
To listen to the voices of parents
Who told me beautiful lies
Who painted me and my world
And then made me believe I was living in my own
For too long and for too vain reasons.
I knew nothing except that
I preferred red roses over white daisies
Which will not wither in the colour of burnt innocence
But instead, of naivety murdered by the reality I chose not to accept.
Let me rephrase
I grew up as a perfectionist
And I preferred success over failure;
To dream small and to achieve;
To prefer stability over change;
Illusion over truth;
Tomorrow over today.
