Emotional
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Colors will drain from the open wound. Upon the carpet, upon the spaces where sunlight brought in from open windows is shown warmest, as these marks are left without memory for why or when they were applied. They just were, because colors can be left behind. Color-blinded, some people are, though not ever blinded of
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Why ever do rightness unto another, when distrust is gathered upon you, blanketed by those I once did love? It is you I love, yet it is they I am forced to resent. It is you I am forced to say is the most important essence. That, to go back to a former time, would
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“The only reason a scandal would target the fiercest at the politician, is because it strikes the heart. Character becomes the only thing berated, of the politician, when the scandal is caused. The heart is the symbol to the emotions. The mind is the symbol to logic. The body is the symbol to vulnerability of
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“To act on impulse, without thought, with no clarity, is comparable to the psychopath who kills without knowing who he is killing. Any person whose vulnerability defines what they share in the world, defines also what they are guilty for sharing. Meaning, that a person who shares their secrets with those who they do not
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“In the attempt to blend politics with art, it never is that feelings dominate logic. Whereas, it will be that feelings, being of chaos, remain as is, until logic cleans up the mess. Where a riot will leave a disaster, logic will clean up the wreckage. Where does the cleaner take the rubble? Does he
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I am sensitive. Real sensitive. So… I have found out that caffeine heightens this sensitivity. Though, not in a good way. One cup of coffee causes my whole body to be in pain. I feel this agony in my chest, my abdomen, my lower back, and even my calves. Even my scoliosis begins to hurt,
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“There is, to each person, their preference, their race, their creed, their religion, and everything else. Anything past this is to the realization that despite having a different story, we bleed the same tears. When someone dies among ourselves, precious to us, we feel the same pain. We all feel the same torments, the same
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He speaks directly to her ear, “You are still so small, my child.” She withdraws to peer upwards to his gaze, with quivering lips and weary stare, to then commit a moment in a burning. She kisses him. Upon the lips, smooth with each waxen mouth that fires up a fever to the downing daytime.
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“Men are never told by some unseen force, to never weep. It is in their personal motto, to never weep. For if they have heard the words, ‘Do not cry’ from another man, it has been easily recognized as right to listen to. Though, that is only because the man in turmoil has said such
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“Not one person is special to the reflection of themselves. For the only time a person is deemed as such, is through another person’s gaze. We are all vulnerable, until we are lifted by another person’s arms, shown that we are special through their eyes. Were there to be the last person to live in
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Her appearance had been, as it still is, a force of endearment over Anton’s visage, washing his face with her colors. Everything he was witness to, during her life, is again, written even now in every crease to his cheeks and lips. It is this way, while he strains to withhold tears. While he strains
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“The saying remains that we are not a reflection of a social realm, though it is true instead that society is a reflection of ourselves, of our own hands, as it is in our own making. Why men weep, said to be rare, is not a teaching by society. In fact, it is a result
Modern Romanticism 