black coffee and cigarettes
i’ve let the city get to me
from this cup I drink and breathe
I let the city into me
i’m a happy waitress on the side
that’s how I pay the rent for me
I kiss the mouth from the neck of long wine
and let the city ferment in me
now here I am standing at the parking meter
digging into my pocket for some quarter to feed her
the city, she eats and drinks me too
devours my footsteps in her silent avenues
pulls me in through the cracks of her skin
that I continuously keep falling and crawling within
Find somebody who loves you - unconditionally, madly, truly. There’s no such thing as soul mates. Hollywood’s “hot pink” romance isn’t real, and you will only make yourself miserable the rest of your life trying to recreate it over and over again. So, find somebody who loves you. Maybe you aren’t ideally meant for each other, actually, maybe everything about your personalities counter - but don’t you see? THAT’s what makes it magic. THAT’s the real purpose. Not to be made for each other, but to make it for each other.
I had this horrible dream that we all have these little white bulbs in our brains that naturally produce light when we are happy, which then bathes our brain in that light and gives it warmth and nutrients. While I was sleeping, someone stole my white bulb and thew it down an eight story staircase, with each level more and more pieces of it broke off. And I watched it break - The doctor told me my brain would never produce that light again. They told me that they could create a synthetic bulb that I could only use for “special occasions” and that the light would be a bright yellow, but it could never be white again.
