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~Apathogen

Aaron
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on days like thesethis morning i noticed  the colors were all the same  i woke up with about three dollars  and all this useless  trash that wears my name.  guess i should make myself  do this work i couldn't  bring myself to before,  so i can eat and buy  more trash that doesn't mean anything.  it's hard to find motivation  in anything when you  spend so much time thinking  about how to kill yourself,  really - what else can seem  important next to that?  but if i take this step  i want to,  can i will i make it there,  a place where the walls aren't grey?  or on days like these
by ~Apathogen
ButterfliesYou and I, we're far from perfect. We make gross misunderstandings; we say hurtful things we do not mean. We can't find the words to express our feelings.   
Our love (this word which holds as much meaning as a sunset rendered in charcoal) is not limitless, and neither is our patience.   
But at the feet of this feeling cheapened by a word, I am humbled. For the first time in my life, I looked into your eyes and you smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.   
Butterflies.   
Seeing two people in love is like watching a frame from the middle of a movie... you can look at it and see what's going on, but it's Butterflies
by ~Apathogen
InsomniaHe laid there, and thought about his dream; thought of the fear and excitement that came from stealing cigarettes from a purse. And that poor, lonely, 8 foot man in a shopping mall, who wanted nothing more than to be loved and held - burned out from years of hard drug overuse; a man with the mind of a child, who the security guards dragged away sobbing. He thought about the way her face looked when she saw the milky way above, spinning in an unrealistically glorious fashion, free the fetters of atmosphere. And why did she brake and stop the vehicle so abruptly in the highway's center, oblivious to traffic and paying heed only to the allure of Insomnia
by ~Apathogen
the last goodbye is a...this last goodbye is not the same  as others that we spake,  in the spring of our youth when the apple blossoms smelled so sweetly.   
these words are not ours  (which were dirty and familiar)  but forced plastic phrases, the excuses of downturned eyes.   
"we'll see each other again i'm sure"  is what i say before your head finds my shoulder.  it's habit, routine, cliché, and that makes it all the more damned real.   
today you are the reason  my life has meaning and form,  because these pangs of mortality reassure me that love exists.   
let stand this proud mon the last goodbye is a...
by ~Apathogen
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