Let the world burn for you
Make the world your wasteland
And the unending sea of ash
your garden.
Poetry. Photography. Thoughts On The Way Of Things.
Let the world burn for you
Make the world your wasteland
And the unending sea of ash
your garden.
This world is not a place
for those of us,
Who are afraid
to make it our own.
Make this world
what you want to see;
Color and light
are your playthings.
The weight of blankets keeps us warm
you keep me warm
as new sunlight spills over the deep blue sheets.
it makes your eyes shine
and I don’t ever want to leave.
For the first time,
in a long time,
she realized she loved the feel of rain
brushing her skin again,
the faint throaty roar of thunder,
the face that smiled back from the glass.
Older, wiser, and still lovely art.
For the first time,
in a long time,
she realized the world was beautiful
even when faced alone.
She’s not afraid to cry.
Weeping is weakness
and fear
Rolling off of her cheeks
and adding to the ocean
of her strength.
Ever wonder why
The world is afraid of you?
Because it’s easy to be in your shadow
When you burn so bright.
Cold exposed brick
and warm whiskey.
Humid nights
stretch underneath us
Endless as oceans.
We feel the smoke fill our throats
we smile
we wait for the sun to rise.
Show the world your everything
if they are afraid,
They don’t deserve a glimpse.
Light a fire in me
Let me burn
for you.
And my light will keep
your darkness
at bay.
We play the game.
With our worry
that we aren’t enough.
With our concern
That we won’t make it.
With our fear
That when all is said and done,
No one will remember us.
I say, fuck that.
Play the game.
Play to win.