-
Life is hard. The only place to soothe the roughness is home. Home is where you find your smile and where you are understood. Welcome! @Burningwords The writer. 👆
NOTICE!
Slow posts because I have a lot of writing workload these days, and not everything is up for posts.
It will improve!
@wordsburn
#short_story
A Soldier's Void
3
The cafe is busy as usual.
"Hi, Bov. What can I get you?" The waitress looks less strange this day.
"Before I say, can I know if I've offended you?"
She hesitates.
"Please let me know. I'll sleep better if I know."
"I..." she stammers. "No."
I expect her to say more, but she doesn't. "Are you sure?"
"Nobody said that to me before." She looks at me closely, perhaps surveying my reaction. "I was only stunned. You weren't rude."
"That's good," I nod. I still have a chance. "Well, I'm sorry I stunned you, if that's a bad thing. I hope you know I never wish to displease you."
She smiles, never says a word.
"Black coffee." I need to let her go away for a moment, and she does, instantly.
She returns with my coffee, but she stands still for a while. She is about to say something.
"What is it?" I press.
"Why do you want me?"
"I'm sorry?" I heard her, but I don't know what to say. I just want her, didn't think it through.
She gulps and asks again. "I asked why you want me."
"I... Umm... You are a beautiful woman and I... I want you."
She blinks at me.
I don't know if that's a reason good enough, and she leaves without a reply. There goes my chance again.
But then she comes back. "What do you want with me?"
Right then a man in a black suit comes. "You need to be attending other customers, not chitchat," he says. She shudders and scurries away. I guess he's supposed to be the manager.
"You didn't have to talk to her like that." I feel rage. I can break him like a twig, but I stay seated, trying to look composed.
"Sir, don't tell me how to do my job." Then the man walks away.
What a prick. Well, prick or not, he saved me. No answer came to me, the moment the waitress asked. I only feel desire to hold her close, smell her, see her...
Tbc...
@wordsburn
#short_story
A Soldier's Void
1
I'm sitting in a cafe, peeking at a couple in the corner. I hope they don't catch me looking.
The woman is holding his hand, and they can't seem to stop smiling. That's making me smile too. The man caresses hairs off her cheeks so lightly as if scared she'd break. That's just gorgeous. And she pulls his hand and kisses the back of it. I envy how unconcerned they are about the world around them. In this hideous planet, such warm gestures exist...
I have returned from a blood bath. Lots of blood on my hand. The war has gone on and on, and for what? I lost my brothers. I lost my one and only sister too who always told me that she wanted love.
We were stationed together, me and sis, and in the dead of night, she told me just that out of nowhere. "I want love. I want to be touched and I want someone to notice me."
I felt her. Still do. And she died in the mud, fighting someone else's battle, a bullet in her eye—a wound nobody could have nursed. She died instantly.
I cried for her. And for my brothers. I cried until my heart decided I should feel the pain without tears from then on.
Now seeing these couples hand in hand, holding each other's gaze, I want love. To be truthful, I want her love, the waitress's, but I can't bring myself to express my need.
After the war, I had no family to return to. As a reward for being a "brave" soldier, I was gifted a house and a car. The house I use, the car I rent. Coming to this cafe was my first attempt to socialize in this world once again, and that's when I saw this gorgeous waitress.
"What can I get you?" Her smile was marvelous. To be fair, it wasn't a special smile—not at all. It just happened to grasp me.
"Coffee. Black." I then began to come everyday.
Today, as I watch the couple, I feel strong enough to speak to her. Of course, we've exchanged names; I'm a regular now, but today I wish to have more words with her.
She comes by. "Hi, Bov. Black coffee?"
"No."
She frowns. "Oh... What can I get you then?"
"I want you." I don't know how to be alluring to a woman. I hope this works.
Smiling, she looks around as if to see who else heard. "Umm..."
"I apologize if I was rude," I say. "You can get me coffee. Black."
She hurries off and places my order. She looks across at me. Her chest is waving. Did I ruin my chance?
I peek at the couple again who are now mouth to mouth, their kiss silent and slow. I'm mesmerized.
The waitress then returns with the coffee. I clear my throat. "Hey, I'm sorry if I was out of line."
She looks at me, trying a small smile. I don't know what she's thinking. Then there she goes without a reply. Fuck.
Tbc...
@wordsburn
#three
#sinday
Gathered
Focus is making love,
With a mind empty of thoughts
And a heart full of fire.
@wordsburn
#small_words
#explicit (light)
Closer Please
The touches you left on my thighs... I could still feel them. You left me with your touches and kisses, and then you left. What am I supposed to do when my body asks for you? My soul knows and craves you, and when someone else kisses me, I remember you.
You left me, but why didn't you take what you left in me too? Why did you have to leave so much in my heart? I want your scent, hugging you deep. I want your thing, dangling in my mouth. I love your taste, but I guess I'm going to be forced to say I loved your taste... But that's a lie. I still love it; my mind replays the moments; I still love every touch. I want you back in my bed. In our bed.
Don't you know the child in my belly needs you? Don't you know that I need you? The way I'm addicted to you, I don't even know how you were able to kiss another woman. To hold another woman. How did her scent not disgust you? How were you able to stand her body? Men tried to flirt with me many times, and my skin crawled. But you...
In the back of my mind, I was fearing this day would come. The day you would announce that I wasn't good enough for you anymore. I can act tough and scream that I am good enough for somebody else, but I don't want to be another man's baby. I want to be your baby. Your queen. Your perfect. I want you to touch my imperfections and call me perfect, not another man.
You always called me a fool. I guess you are right.
@wordsburn
SHARE!
#justwords
#small_words
The Right Way to Hate
I wish I wasn't born me. Everybody looks damn better than me one way or another. I wish I was born somewhere else. I wish I was born in another body. Into another family, even.
Mornings bring another day upon me, not a new day. New year reminds me of the other year I have to stick around in this shithole called "Earth."
I'm not strong enough to wake up every morning, put up with the load of responsibilities I have, and nail the day. I just want to stay curled in bed, and sleep till I can't anymore. My friends only know of the jokes I tell them. They don't know that I myself am a big fucking joke. I can't tell them about what goes on with me; they will laugh. Well they may not laugh, but that's worse. I hate being pitied, hate it when they feel sorry for me. Don't feel sorry! Just listen to how fucked up I am. I have nobody. One of these days I'll walk away from life through a knot of a rope.
I'll die where they come every day so they won't forget to bury me.
@wordsburn
SHARE!
#rhyme
Spill the Jars
I pour my heart in what I love,
Hoping its large enough, thy cup.
I don't hold back; I will flood
You with attention, as I feel love.
And your shape might be a ruin,
But the remains of my hardness become fluid
To embrace all of you, glad as I do it.
Pain had been a tenant in my heart for a bit while.
Then you crashed in and bought my heart with your rich smile,
Left no room for pain.
My ways had been stormy, despite the season.
My days had dimmed darkly, despite the peaked sun,
Then you shooed the shades.
Your touch slid the curtain of frowns
And smile hit the surface, curled mouth—
Heavy weight loosed from my face.
You made it easy for me to trust you, and here's why, babe.
A shadow follows you, doesn't leave your side,
But the follow moves're done only when there's light.
The moment darkness reigns,
Shadow who always stayed
Disappears.
We have no friends, only shadows.
They just go when our beam hollows—
Left to tears.
But not you.
When my smile dimmed,
When my pocket slimmed, you stayed.
I trust you to leave only when
I succumb to the one and only death one day.
That's why I call you soul:
As my life befalls you're prone to remain
With me.
Love is an ocean, and you taught me to swim deep...
You take my breath away.
@wordsburn
SHARE!
#wordsburn
And it's easier to fail: they'll judge me different,
If I flee the jail of society's perspectives.
Means:
1. It means that if I do something not in line with society, they'll treat me quite differently, and not in a good way.
2. If I flee the jail of their views, they'll judge me different, because anybody who escapes prison is subject to judgement.
I need to bail, though it costs me acceptance...
Means
1. I need to drop trying to fit in their views, even if they will stop accepting me and start judging me.
2. I need bail, because that's what you do when you are in jail. You pay the bail and be released. And the cost of it is acceptance, and I'm ready to give it up.
SHARE!
@wordsburn
#wordsburn
Her ex failed, didn't read
Her legs well; now I need
To excel so to please her brain.
Means:
1. Her ex couldn't do what I can because he didn't do what he should have, and so I need to outdo him.
2. He failed, because he didn't read her legs well (like exams, because who doesn't read, doubtlessly fails), and I have to excel, because an outstanding student excels.
(I can't do this for all the lines—that would make you lose it—only lines I think can be exemplary.)
SHARE!
@wordsburn
#rhyme
#truthday
The Mind
Bad feelings are birthed,
Not only when hard times push,
But also when bad thoughts thirst
To fuck with the void hard times put.
If I can't dam up my thoughts,
Bad feelings will keep flowing.
If I can't stand up against my thoughts,
They'll traffick sad junk in my heart,
And I'll not quickly reach where I need to be going.
Suppressing pain won't turn it off.
In fact, it will turn it on; won't be long
Before it comes on my smiley face,
Washing my wholesomeness with tears...
Flooding in boredom and fears...
It will dominate me after the hiding phase.
Sometimes kneeling to pain earlier
Is the best way to win it easier,
Not being defensive with a smiley face.
My goal is very cosmic:
I can't deny every shot this
Pain strikes, though that's what my needs crave.
Denying pain attention is how
I became infested with doubts...
Now I have to brush off each biting pain.
Forget what they think about me...
What do I think about me?
Am I as confident when they're not looking?
Am I an optimist when times are pushing?
UPDATED!
General Category:
#rhyme
A bunch of lines that rhyme.
#small_words
A bunch of paragraphs about a certain topic.
#short_story
A bunch of... it's just a fucking story.
Specific Category:
#self_convo
Revolves around self (mentality, views).
#truthday
Revolves around facts (at least as strongly as possible).
#thirstday
Revolves around thirst (of any sort—drinks, love, reassurance, acceptance, strength, lust).
#sinday
Revolves around sins (identified by the norm, by religions, or by individuals).
#atheistic
Revolves around atheistic views (unfortunately, it cannot and will not stand for all atheists, just the writer's perspective). Warning: Readers who are sensitive to religious criticisms are advised to skip these writings; readers who do not agree with the words are welcome to ignore it and move on.
#explicit (light)
Revolves around verbal images of adult content, but of light concentration.
#explicit (heavy)
Revolves around heavily explicit contents (and I advise you skip these writings, if you find them offensive).
#three
Three lines of magic, spread here and there.
WHAT'S NEW?
#wordsburn
Which words are really burning, though?
#justwords
Unedited, quick, and short writings
Click on any of the hashtags for results.
#rhyme
For the Better Bad
On the clearness of the heart,
Pain is a clear mess.
Then tears stress to wash
The smudge that has smeared stress.
It appears best to ignore the blots—
A stain that no tears best.
And to be fearless is damn hard;
Instead I strain to fear less.
I'd have been a brave lion,
Fearless to slay problems,
But not when I protect my pride.
"Don't show none of your pain—hide them.
"Don't show such a sore face; try some
"Masks," pride says to protect my mind...
From a danger called humility...
That's a stranger I don't let screw with me;
Pride disfavors it, says it can loosen me:
"It can make you weak and fluid.
"It can make you weep and lose it."
I have favored pride to screw with me.
But now I see:
Pride weeps, not me,
When humbleness rains.
Pride bleeds, not me,
When humbleness reigns.
I thought I chose pride because it was right...
I thought those nights where pain leaked from my eyes
Could be fixed with pride, when I piped its lies...
The tears I denied, the fears I thought died...
It made me ignore them,
But they never ignored back.
Vengeful, they waited by the door then
Knocked me till I was down on the floor, flat.
If life was a room, pain is a windowpane,
Supplies me with true views, if I can see through the pain...
And pride is the room's shades, disguised as a true saint.
Its lies make me lose faith in my many-viewed mate.
Pain is bad, but pride is worse.
For the better bad, I humbly...
#sinday
#rhyme
The Grand Plan
I'm not where I said I would be—
Where I predicted to be five years before.
I've still not become who I could be,
But how could I be, with tight fears in store?
I planned to do it—that's all I did: Planned it.
I have to shoot it, before I miss more chances.
How many more months before I practice?
How many doors shut because my hands hid?
Just fucking knock, dickhead,
You will slide in one day.
What is not knocked is left
To be closed, until some day
Someone else barges in to test
What I planned to fulfill some day.
I wait for motivation,
But it never came, like my father.
Sitting around isn't patience;
It's being unable to move on the ladder.
The top won't come down for me—
About damn time I spread my wings.
I am abandoning motivation...
You see, now it's backing me,
After how it's lacked in me—latent.
I'm thankful I left you;
It made you the best you, well painted.
#explicit (heavy)
#rhyme
#thirstday
Bony Struggle 5
"Good man," her hands in my hair, rubbing.
That means I don't suck at sucking,
My face planted over her lungs, munching.
I haven't ordered my hands
To sneak about the borders of her ass,
But they sort of love to trespass, brushing.
She sings in moans in this silent night:
My dripping tongue dances from side to side,
Making her nipples twerk to my surprise.
Then I trip south to her navel, time to ride...
I inhale her abs, and now I'm high:
Good stuff I can't pass—I'm sorry guys.
I exhale on her lap as I part her thighs.
She watches me watching her red meat drip.
I tell her, "You are who I want to get sweaty with."
Her thighs piled on my shoulders,
She traps me with a smile and then orders,
"Bow down and take a long while with my odors;"
Such a queen—her style inspires my boner.
I'm not lower than her... but my head lowers.
Her aroma floods my nose—from her wet streams.
I wanna have a slice from her red meat,
Wishing she never hands a slice from her red meat—
Or whoever she feeds might become a dead meat.
Her smell is loud, and my nose leans down
To hear how the folds of her meat sounds.
Before drips fall from my watery mouth,
I swallow.
Then my hand falls on her thigh—
The scarred zone.
This oily-looking hurt now shines,
But far ago,
It must have darkened her life,
But now her passion lights our night—
Her heart glows.
She's a war hero,
And I'll sink my sword between her thighs.
When I kiss her scar,
She sighs, her body relaxing.
Her fingers creep in my hair,
Then she leads me up to where
Her legs meet, my lips traveling.
I breathe on her flower;
I breathe in her flower,
And my tongue blooms out to start sapping.
Her hands seizing my head, she whispers,
"Taste me," as she squeezes her fingers.
I don't think she knows that I heard her,
But I obey anyway.
I won't say it to her, but I love that she's dominating.
I remain under her to fully let her body reign me.
When my tongue lands on her,
Her toes contract.
She makes her hands so firm,
And groans at the first contact.
"Yes! baby," her hips begin to grind,
Wetting my face—a dripping, slime, hot bath.
Driving me out of breath,
She's feeding me,
Her thighs circled around my head.
My tongue enjoys how she's drenched,
Leafing these meats.
Her hips grinding, she sounds on edge,
"Keep breathing me.
"Ah! Fuck, let's fucking plow this bed."
She speaks with need.
Then she picks me out the mess,
And blows me kisses, my face doused and wet,
Her legs pulling my hips down to her flesh.
"Sink in me deep."
Her words are—no doubt—a threat.
Her voice is dry and hungry, her mouth so wet.
A lioness in charge growling with strength,
Needing me to breed.
As I'm unbuckling my belt quickly,
She strikes my cheek like hell,
Her hand staying on my well-hit cheek.
I don't get mad or yell,
And she smiles, rubs me well,
And strikes another wailing beat.
I see the power that she's feeling through her eyes,
With each strike.
I feel a tower filling the room between my thighs,
With each strike.
I free the tower to fill the room between her thighs,
And she eyes
My freed tower, and feels its drool with slow slides—
Damn, she's fine.
I'm pleased how her hand is milking my tool, closing my eyes,
Then she's like:
"Sneak it in, until all of you is sleeping inside."
Then she strikes me with another slap.
I reply with a hard thrust down; our groins clap.
She has admitted all of me.
...
...
Her eyes roll up and behind, temptingly.
Through grit teeth, she lets out a manly roar.
To be continued
Then I trip south to her navel, time to ride...
I inhale her abs, and now I'm high:
Good stuff I can't pass—I'm sorry guys.
I exhale on her lap as I part her thighs.
Bony Struggle 5 on Thursday.
#explicit (heavy)
#rhyme
#thirstday
#rhyme
#sophisticated
Back to Back
I'm not in control:
Life is at a pace of its own.
The hours look slow,
But then the days become old,
Before I even know
What stood in the way of the goals
I jotted years ago.
I strain to regain control:
I pave a good lane,
Then later, few days would chase
My strength to stay in the lane I chose.
I'm a slave to the brain;
To change is to chain this brain by ropes
Of discipline.
I hope the demons in
My soul will leave if in-
sightful flare reaches
My globe.
The beams diagnose my life;
Then prescribe a dose of light,
Which sheds a lion's boldness,
Then I left my indulgent side.
@wordsburn
#short_story
A Soldier's Void
2
On my bedsides table is my sister's picture. I loved her. I wish someone loved her before she died. She was strong—manlike mostly. And yet she still wanted to be cared for. Hugged. The world is unfair.
I slide under my blankets and think. My nights are full of thoughts, which have no order and are all futile. I think the waitress. Her front teeth is misaligned, her nose is crooked, and her hair is short and black. She has my heart, and yet I fear if I have wronged her with my rude behavior today.
I don't know how to approach a woman. I suddenly miss my sister deeply. She'd know what to do. She'd tell me what I have to say.
Tears come, and I turn to the other side. Try to sleep. I can't. Besides, nightmares fill my nights, all the men and women I've slaughtered... My sister used to say such things too.
"I drove a dagger in his cheek." She used to say these things in horror, disgusted with herself. "Why do we do this? Why do they make us do it?"
She was a clever one, asked questions. When nobody answered, she'd ramble on.
"I'm sick." I saw tears in her eyes. "I don't want to be a murderer. The other ones believe in a cause too. Pointless causes we both have."
I hugged her. I mean, what do I know? I'm not wise enough to say the right words.
"I just want love," she sniffled.
She said that so much, as if it was her only dream. As if it was the only dream in life. She planted that need inside me, and now I know it is what I need.
I turn over to other side under the blankets, and sleep finally takes me away.
Tbc...
@wordsburn
#justwords
Friction in Igloo
Love is a spark.
It ignited without my permission,
And I loved that it possessed me,
Warmed my heart.
The cold world felt bearable,
But that spark was too weak to keep on burning.
For a sweet moment, I saw light, and then...
I wish it stayed.
If it did, I would've stayed.
I'm sorry.
@wordsburn
#small_words
#sophisticated
Dimensions
In the depth of winter, sadness swallowed me whole,
Because I found out that I wasn't enough.
Although I had no sharp mind,
I felt as if there lay a dormant animal in me
That I had to poke.
The thick-skinned had always assumed control in this world,
And I could no longer live in fear of being caught;
I could no longer live in fear.
I needed to target something harder than I was
And go back and forth with it,
Until I embodied a shape that needed no more adjustments.
Afterward, it became crystal clear:
Having an edge makes me lethal but also precious,
And more than one would be far better,
For I'd be “perfect” in a sense.
So I targeted something similar yet harder,
Working my way around it,
Until I could slice through it like a piece of cake.
Just finishing the deed never cut it for me;
I had to do it in such excellence
That no stone was left unturned,
Or so it should seem that way,
Before I could tussle with what was harder even.
This cycle became thirst I couldn't quench—
There always appeared one more side of me to whet,
For better or worse.
I found deep life in this,
The Well that never dries.
May I die before Her
@wordsburn
Don't hold back at all, even when she screams for help. Even when she yells, "Stop it! I'm not joking! This really hurts!" Even if her nails dip in your back and blood starts to leak from your spine.
Fuck her.
Harder, Baby on Tuesday (tomorrow).
#small_words
#truthday
SHARE!
@wordsburn
#justwords
#small_words
Too Blinded with Size
Big tits... Big ass... Round hips... Blot-less skin... These words pretty much sum up beauty in our generation. I'd add fake nails which they call "false" nails, but those scare me, not attract me. Although leading an awesome life has small to do with being beautiful, people are obsessed.
I'm personally not a big fan of looks, meaning I spend almost no time decorating myself, but I can't say the same for a lot of people. To be fair, there is nothing wrong with surgeries and makeups; in fact, they are art, in some way. What's truly wrong is why people commit to them. Is your reason because you're insecure of who you are without the decorations? If it is, I'd say you are wasting too much damn time and money to impress me. And I'm not impressed. Sure, you'll interest lots of sheep, but you'll end up hiding at the end of the day.
Some do makeup, scary nails, and all that stuff, fully aware that their circle of important people (family, friends, children) are there for them, whether they do those or not. Now these are people who do it, expecting nice compliments from their own circle, and they're confident as a result. But others do it to impress people not worth impressing. Losing time and money for me who won't be impressed.
Be smart. Be safe. Don't try this at home.
@wordsburn
SHARE!
#small_words
Lonely
X: I do it for myself. The makeup, the laugh, the smile. I do it all for myself.
Y: I think that's a lie.
X: Oh yeah? Why?
Y: Few of the only things I do for myself is to sleep and to eat. I work hard, and I can't say I do that for myself only. It means nothing if people I love don't praise me for it. If people I love don't share from my profits and be satisfied.
X: What has that got to do with my makeup?
Y: Umm... What's makeup if people you love don't notice and love you for it?
X: You don't know anything about me. Everybody who loved me are dead. I don't love anyone, and nobody loves me. I do it for myself. ONLY for myself.
Y: I don't want you to do it only for yourself, though. I don't think—
X: I don't care about what you think or what you want! Fuck what you want!
Y: Umm... I'm sorry if I offended you. I just don't think that everybody doesn't love you.
X: You have no right to think that. I know myself. It's pointless to even talk with you. You won't understand. Like everybody else. Nobody loves me.
Y: I do...
X: Wait... What?
Y: I love you.
X: Oh...
Y: And I love how you did your mascara. It shows how lonely you feel, and...
X: Who said I feel lonely!?
Y: I... I... Sorry... I didn't mean...
X: Don't say sorry. You're right. I feel lonely. I want someone to notice me. To notice my pain.
Y: Well, everybody here notice you everyday. They love how you look.
X: Really? Why don't they tell me?
Y: Because you scare them.
X: Oh... And you? I don't scare you?
Y: No, you don't. I notice your pain. Though you're strong and dominant, your eyes tell me that you need someone.
X: You're scaring me. Nobody ever talked to me like that.
Y: It's okay. I won't hurt you. Umm... Can I hug you? I want to feel you.
X: But we're in public. People will see.
Y: Let them. Come here.
X: Ahhh wow. I needed this. I don't remember being hugged. Still a bit worried if they see us, though.
Y: Don't be. It's just us now. Close your eyes and feel.
X: Feel what?
Y: Shh...
SHARE!
@wordsburn
#wordsburn
I've employed a life full of
Stress scorching up my guts—
I anoint my own hell.
Means:
1. I chose a life that puts stress on stress on me, and that makes me the master of my own pain.
2. To anoint means to bless, and so I bless my hell so it won't scorch me. At the same time, anoint means to apply oil on something, and applying oil on my "scorched up guts" will only make it worse. Oil is flammable.
SHARE!
@wordsburn
#sinday
#atheistic
#small_words
Why I Don't Believe In God
Because hell looks fun, and heaven looks boring... Just kidding.
I don't feel good worshipping what I don't feel. I don't believe in what I don't feel is good, but, of course, feelings can mislead. So what else can I rely on?
There are arguments on whether God exists or not. One side says stuff, the other follows suit, but nothing really comes out of it, in my own opinion. I don't really see why it matters to people if He exists or not. Well, I do hear why it matters to them, but it never weighed, their reason.
Some say that if He doesn't exist, then there would be no point in this life. Some say that they need a reason of how everything came to exist, if they are to be alive. Others say what others said using different words.
God's existence matters to me, but not that much. It matters to me for the sake of curiosity; I sometimes wonder how everything came to be, and that's a fascinating topic. That said, I don't mind whether He is there or not. If he is there, cool. If he is not there, cool. Either way, my purpose in life has a little connection with how I came to be.
Purpose means, or as I understand it, why something is there. For example, a sperm cell is there to serve one purpose (or I only know of its one purpose), and that is to fertilize the egg. But not everything has one purpose. A dick has not just one purpose—unlike the white thing it spits out. It's used to piss and also to procreate. And not everything has a predefined purpose. We used to use our dicks to piss and procreate, but nowadays, thanks to technology, we have extended its purpose. We use it to help others to procreate through sperm banks.
Now all of it boils down to one question. What is my purpose?
To be continued
@wordsburn
SHARE!
#wordsburn
Good times are always mine,
Because I dig through the bad times.
Means:
1. If you see through the bad times, good times are guaranteed.
2. Good times are mine (they are buried underground—a mine), and they belong to me, since I dig through the surface (the bad times).
In a nutshell,
Life's hard, till you break in to the butter side.
Means:
1. Life is hard till you break through and find the loveable parts.
2. A literal nutshell is hard, but once you break inside, its the butter side, which is what we want anyway (but can never have until we break the hardness).
I accelerate skywards
Because I get the gravity of space—
Means:
1. I'm constantly moving ahead, because I understand the importance of space (having my own space to grow).
2. I understand how the gravity of space works, and therefore I accelerate to the sky, above everybody else. (There's no gravity in space, speaking in literal terms.)
If I can't dam up my thoughts,
Bad feelings will keep flowing.
If I can't stand up against my thoughts,
They'll traffick sad junk in my heart,
And I'll not quickly reach where I need to be going.
...
...
The Mind on Tuesday (tomorrow).
#rhyme
#truthday
I'd have been a brave lion,
Fearless to slay problems,
But not when I protect my pride.
For the Better Bad on Friday (tomorrow)
#rhyme
#small_words
#truthday
Quality 2
Being real is pricey.
May cost friendships, may cost your name.
But if being real costs you those,
Chances are that those were fake.
Fake you only brings in fake others.
Though, why choose real over fake?
Because fake is tiring.
Producing lies...
And more lies to prove the prior lies.
Sleeping at nights imagining tomorrow's lies.
Don't you ever wonder how real feels like?
Real feels better.
Real only needs energy at first.
Once you show yourself, it's over.
No more energy.
And real happens to attract real others.
Real friends. Real passion. Real family.
Death is a proud moment after a real life.
That's why I admitted that I was fake:
The first step to becoming real.
#truthday
#small_words
Designed Destiny 3
When she sees another guy passing by, he starts to feel his gut boiling, and he becomes grumpy for the rest of the day. Sadly, she doesn't even know what she has done to upset him. Some women would ask what's wrong nonstop; some women would fire back and fight. Both are losing. The man felt jealous, but he can't tell her that he felt insecure when she saw that guy passing by. To hide what he felt, he go through a lot; so to never become vulnerable. Same goes to women. The depth we go to look strong.
Admittedly, becoming vulnerable is hard, with pride telling us to always pump out a proud chest, but we cannot hide and expect the relationship to go forward.
You are insecure about somethings; it doesn't matter who the fuck you are. Everyone has a past, and some situations trigger our past feelings. Say, your woman has been raped before, and you come to her from behind to be romantic, but she didn't hear you come (and it happens that when she was raped, she was caught from behind). Suddenly, she becomes angry, takes off, and is not in the mood to do anything that night, or day. She must find a way to tell him what made her insecure later on, and he must find a way to not be mad about what seemed like an overreaction.
There are situations that trigger a certain mood in us, because of our pasts. When that happens, both should become vulnerable and overcome it; otherwise it could be the death of love. The cure to insecurities is vulnerability, along with a good partner to handle your vulnerable self.
When a person is insecure, she becomes defensive, silent, grumpy, distant, or angry. All are to cover that she felt insecure. Same goes for men. When you see your partner acting strange, whether defensive, silent, grumpy, or whatever, be kind and patient. Don't fight back. Instead, ask if there's anything wrong, and if your partner won't tell, just say that you're here to love them no matter what. And then wait out their "strange" reaction; it will die soon. Mostly, they'll open up almost immediately, or they'll open up in a short while, when you keep reassuring them that you are definitely there, loving them. If this sounds like being a bitch to you, you'll be stuck with bitches the rest of your life, because a woman is earned. As is a man.
And for the one who felt insecure, the first step is admitting you felt insecure. If you deny that to yourself, you'll bother yourself more than you will bother your partner. Take your time to admit it, know the situation that made you feel insecure, and be brave to slowly tell your partner that you felt weak, or abandoned, or threatened, or unloved, or sad, or hurt—when that certain situation came to pass.
When a person is saying how insecure they were, don't ever say that what they felt insecure about is dumb, stupid, or pitiful. Just let the person explain, and then apologize for what happened to them—it doesn't matter if it's your fault or not—and hug them, or any warm physical response can put them at ease.
Love is with the humble person.
Love is with the understanding mind.
Love is with the vulnerable heart.
And a life full of love is a life lived to the fullest.
Don't agree? You can kiss my ass.
#sinday
#rhyme
#atheistic
God Can't Judge Me
I'm an imperfect who is the image
Of a perfect god? How ridiculous.
They say he is so perfect
To pass a whole verdict.
He can't make man saint or sinless,
But can make man pay for his sins?
From his godly-made, flawless plan,
He didn't create a flawless man,
And yet he can pass faultless judgements?
We are imperfects made by one perfect;
So in the end he can pass a just verdict...
Hmm...
He is absolute, gave us absolute laws
To live by His rule, but gave us absolute flaws...
When we sinned through and through,
He gave His son to an overused cross,
Showed His son's blood removed
Our sins; then we kneeled to up and salute God,
For righting what He screwed—
Though, we still name Him an "absolute" boss...
These days, I see the same people.
Their brains seem incapable of not judging,
Then they say, "Only God can judge me."
I think God's the only capable to not judge me,
Even after I cease to exist.
...
...
That is, if He does exist.