oddlywiredsoul

[oddlywiredsoul]

Dva vuka se bore u meni

[oddlywiredsoul]

Ouroboros

I don't think I can survive another winter. The cold does something to my mind that makes me feel too mortal at times. It's May, and I haven't eaten yet today. I'm hoping that the skin off my bones will suffice, long enough to feel the sun again. Long enough to get up on my knees and beg one more time. To pray to the gods, the universe, or whoever it may concern. I'll put down my pride, and I'll write you the perfect line, the one I can't ignore anymore. I beg you, understand me when I say, I am the snake that bites its own tail. I am the calm and the storm at once. And I - I am so tired..

- F. L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

“Stevie had his own sacrifice, he was blind”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t blinded. He saw the love through his music”

[oddlywiredsoul]

Always tried to be the quiet one

But you got a sneaky way of saying less than me

[oddlywiredsoul]

[oddlywiredsoul]

[oddlywiredsoul]

[oddlywiredsoul]

Both haunted and holy

Tell me, where do I put the anger -

when it overflows the cup 

I keep my love in.

When my hands tremble

and I'm reminded why,

I am my father's daughter.

Where do I put the grief -

when it flows through my veins,

and whispers that the past 

is always gonna be there, 

holding me by the thoat.

Where do I put the shame -

when I tell you I've been sleeping 

in someone else's skin.

When my legs won't move,

and the key won't fit in the door.

Where do I put the longing -

for someone I can't name,

for something I don't recognise.

For the courage to stay.

For the innocence we used to have

when we were kids.

- F.L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

[oddlywiredsoul]

In pursuit of happiness

There's a one-of-a-kind feeling

When a song you've never heard before

Takes you somewhere strange

Somewhere new yet familiar

Like a glimpse into the future

Or a different life

You're sitting on the edge of a cliff

Everything that lies before you,

surrenders itself

To you and your eyes only.

Everything you've ever done,

Everyone you've ever been,

Engraved in your back like a scar

You fondly look at, from time to time.

My dearest friend - look at you.

Look at how far you've come.

Look at who you've become.

Every breath you take, a defiance

Every fiber of your being on fire

You're alive. You're alive. You're alive.

- F.L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

Echoes

I've read somewhere that mirrors are, in their truth, green

That, when the light fractures enough times,

it creates something beautiful

If a crack is enough to make space for something to be in awe of, split me open

I promise you, there's beauty in here, new colors and sounds

There's something to be in awe of

I've heard that it only takes one bad hand, to drown a heart

That, in all honesty, we leave too much of ourselves in everything we touch

Therefore, if anything is as it seems,

some things aren't so easy to scrape off of one's tongue

When the final word is written, what does it mean to not utter anything else?

When do our lungs stop burning the guilt that was left behind?

When does a distance stop being comfortable?

When does a wall crumble?

When is a mirror only a mirror, and not a spectrum to be imprisoned by?

-F.L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

There will be days like these -

when your body is tired,

and your mind prefers the quiet.

The cold cups of coffee,

with that little sparkle of existential dread.

There will be days when you won’t feel like yourself,

but an echo of who you once were.

Remember, you are still you.

There will be days

when your skin feels suffocating -

days when the beat of your heart is slower,

barely noticeable.

You won’t disappear.

There are still places that can hold you,

and mold your soul into something lighter.

You will still be you.

Let the sun kiss your skin,

let the rivers flow through you -

there’s beauty in the struggle,

even when you find yourself on the floor,

trying to turn your hands into something more.

You are not unknown.

I see your atoms piecing together the parts,

thought to be long gone.

There’s still something behind your eyes,

waiting for the right moment to come out.

There’s still warmth in your voice,

still strength in your gaze.

Crash and burn, if your heart requires it -

shed your skin, it no longer serves you.

Dust your shoulders.

There won’t always be a need to survive.

You, will always be you.

- F.L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

I am nothing without pretend

I know my flaws

I know how to live with them

I am nothing without giving love to people who need it the most

Even when it rips me apart

And leaves me bleeding out in the street

The cold pavement

Never felt more like home

I am nothing

But a warmth, when there's warmth to give

Nothing but the knives

That will find your throat eventually

You will never know me

Don't get comfortable with the silence

You know what's coming, don't you?

I am nothing, but a circle on your back

I trace it with my fingers

So gentle and light

It gives you hope and shivers

But for me, it's the most gut-wrenching sacrifice

I am nothing

Without these anchors

Nothing, without the heaviest words

And the heaviest of goodbyes

It eats at me

Until I'm as black as the nights

When I stay up talking to the moon

It wears your face.

- F.L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

There's an angle to this place

The sun hitting the wall, at the brink of your mind's solace

There's an angle you've never seen before

Some you will never see

You sit with it

There are levels to this pain

Valleys to leave it all behind

Everything you held on to, bled out in your hands

You forget, you can't leave claw marks on ghosts

Still, you sit with it

There's an old 6 stringer

With a splinter in the back

Lovely and daring

It cuts you open with every shift of air

The only thing, it has ever known, is a touch

Soft lingering, warmth unnoticed

Please, sit with it.

- F.L.

[oddlywiredsoul]

relationships and jobs are temporary. your shitty unpopular tumblr blog is forever

[oddlywiredsoul]

I've been laying here for a while.

With a cigarette between my lips and a knife turning in my diaphragm.

I'm not fighting the strings around my body that tie me to this bed.

I've surrendered to the flow of the river.

Not in a carpe diem way, but in a dead fish way.

Maybe I should call my therapist again. But to admit I can't pull myself out of it is to admit I need to be carried, and I've never really allowed that.

I haven't been to my father's grave in years.

Grief is eating me alive.

- F.L.