I’ve taken this subconscious oath to never harm a creature unless they’ve harmed me.
But even with that I’m cursed with a kindness that overwhelms me.

keep me so when I need to be so.

I am severely irritated by helpless, pathetic, inefficient, foolish females.

That’s why I keep to the contrary. 

Distance seems to be as good as time.
Remedies remedies
to one’s afflictions.
No cure to the ailment,
but an alleviation to the sickness
to lessen the distress
whatever heartache
and migraine.

But be wary.
Distance is not always natural.
It is not balanced as time.
The dosage may kill you
if you leave yourself confined
inside the prescription bottle
that is isolation.

Page by page,
some memories fade
by the wisps of the air
in between the turning
but dont be mourning
as this chapter closes
death isn’t the prognosis
nothing is really terminal
we’re only at the minimal end.

I’m going with the flow, so why should I cry if a stone from the stream washes away unto new shores?

You’re engraved into my being, but your being isn’t engraved into my life.

I know that now.
And so I can just smile lightheartedly about the genuine past.

Sometimes
I can’t speak
I can’t tell the person I wish knew
how I felt.
and so I’ll mold tunes out of my meanings
instead of wretched screams.

I’ll carry songs formed by written notes
and they’ll carry the sorrow, frustration,
the anger in my voice.

They’ll bear my melodies, my tragedies
as they twist in space, 
unburdened by the heavy emotions
they glide, seamlessly
and then gracefully dissipate.
 

Just because something seems perfect doesn’t mean it will last.

Internal conflicts
I feel inside
as I choose to hide
what I want
and prefer the pain
just to maintain
my pride.

 

Writing feels so natural to me. It’s kinda like breathing.

So I dont know if it’s correct to say I have a passion for writing because it’s not like anyone says they’re passionate about breathing.

Moonlight, Moonshine
sinking claws into the night air
purring sighs murmured into the wind.

Dark hair, Bright eyes
a swift flicker of her tail
a touch of wet warmth under her paws.

Her protruding whiskers as straight as her lover’s lifeline.

She can’t help it you see,
she’s a toxic vixen
a malicious seductress
with a sensual transfixion.

I admit, the inner ferocities in me have surfaced.
The pieces of me that are now shielded by defensive thoughts and aggressive acts, but are stained with a longing to be yearned for.

It’s the reconstruction period that followed the wreckage.
The part that you’ve now misunderstood, bypassed, and now drifted from.

I can’t blame
you
for seeing the change
because the pieces
may be placed
in the same
areas,
polished and renewed.
But they still are 
survivors scarred,
trying to make use
of what’s left and what can grow
out of this bloodstained ground
and though it looks questionable,
I’m striving
to keep growing positively
into a me that’s better stable.

If reality was a dream and my dreams were reality.