kjyo

our existence is mired in constant friction; the one choice we have is choosing the pain that’s worth our short actuality.

almost. …i “almost” chose you.

paradoxic.

to be swift as the coursing river,

if i were asked to describe this- it would probably be through the poem of Robert Frost. the only difference being, i left and took the road on the fork every one expected me to out of obligation- not want.

her smell. it lingers on skin sticking like mildew forged in sun-kissed sin.

it’s flattering to hear that you’re the best, sweetest, and most unforgettable mistake he/she’s ever made. but, thinking about it, and no matter how you look at it; you’re still a mistake in their eyes. take that as how you want- that’s just my two cents.

a long time ago, was at a party once and this girl i was with had dyed her hair specifically for the event; she was enjoying the night away- being hit on by guys, but after a couple too many drinks she admitted she was waiting on me to give her a compliment on how she looked and vented her frustration at my lack thereof through a joke or two. her short, almost skin-tight blood red dress complemented her newly dyed dark hair, a beautiful contrast to her fair skin. i smiled and said earnestly “i don’t need to tell you anything. you know you look stunning tonight.” the nonchalance in my voice and the matter of factly tone in my delivery shocked her, as she flushed a deeper shade of pink- flustering, she wanted to say something and protest but without missing a beat, i leaned closer to her ear and whispered: “but you’ll look better on your knees with my dick in your mouth.” she blushed again deeper still, but began to laugh. playfully, she jabbed at my arm calling me a pig and a nasty perv. she didn’t expect me to saying something so forward. i laughed too- said i was surprised as well and that jest came out of nowhere. we laughed and continued on with the affair of the night. at one point of the night, i remember her saying under her breath as she sipped another glass of champagne. “but they do say jokes are half meant.” she remained in close proximity after that exchange, all throughout the night. after the event- she lead me back to her place and, let’s just say, i was right in my statement.

learn to accept you are who you are. even with whatever you think this concept of you being,

“my lips miss you.” just lip service of sweet nothings,

“all good things must come to an end.” alas… i’ll miss fucking you.

this, so bitter taste only masks the hurt of love drunken delusion.

the reason i choose my words in writing is because i mean every one of them- purposively selecting each utterance to convey the message i want said. and in doing this careful dance, little is left to your imagination; the less you need to read between the lines.

MISTAKE - NF

that was one hell of a kiss.

my lips, scratched, cut, and bruised; burdened by taste of yours. i still feel your teeth pressed on my lower lip. every time i open my mouth to breath, i taste your tongue and remember you probing my mouth- finding your mark as you sucked and nibbled on my tongue- my mouth restless in its newfound solitude,

once, my soul lay bare; an essence of a broken cathartic release. itstimeibuildmyselfup.again.

one. but i plan on deleting it soon as it serves as nothing more than a time sink now,

haven’t felt this pathetic for a while now; it’s almost refreshing to remember how much i despise these situations. comedyatitsfinest.

temperance. preferably the store bought kind.

love me from a distance - Emily Vaughn, Joseph Tilley yeah. this is just as bad.

willful and conscious ignorance, to a certain degree. there’s a reason innocence is often related to joy,

messages are just that; messages. we tend to infer meaning where there isn’t- over-analysis breeds a notion contorted by bias. only take things as they are; and don’t forget to add that pinch of salt here and there- lest you’re prepared to taste bitter disappointment. (andnothisisn’twhatyouthinkthisisabout.)

I’ll Make a Man Out of You - Peyton Parrish

pain will be a constant. it all just varies in degrees, sometimes it’s more; sometimes less. regardless there will be some form of discomfort throughout this experience, humanity exists in constant friction- it’s all a matter of getting used it. and the faster you do; the faster you can sort your shit.