ra1-man

[ra1-man]

I have a tender soul.

It can only handle small pokes.

Whenever you lash out it scares my heart and butchers my soul.

Did you know I struggle talking to people?

Well thats because of my soul.

My heart and bones are strong.

But my soul is bundled up in the corner.

Terrified.

Remember how I randomly stop talking to my friends?

Thats because of my soul.

My soul is scared I will make them angry too.

I dont want to lose them.

And I would say the same for you, but my soul could never agree.

I have a tender soul.

And it makes me scared of everything and everyone.

Did you know that?

Then again, we dont talk about that kind of stuff.

I never talk about my feelings with others.

Its because my soul is scared.

My soul has seen how bad others have things.

It thinks our problems arent bad enough to talk about it.

I will not force myself or my soul to talk about it.

Its easier keeping it to us anyway.

[ra1-man]

Oh no, it's getting sappy. Am I in love? Ah crap.

I like you.

Like, i LIKE-like you.

I don't know how to say it though.

And i like alot about you.

I like how your hair always looks so soft and sits so perfectly.

I like how you face looks, how everything sits so comfterbly yet is so hard to draw.

I like how your face falls so comfterbly into a smile.

I like how you act, you dont make me feel weird or out of place.

I like how your gaze is so soft and calming yet somehow so exhilirating.

I like how your eyes are a massive array of blues instead of just one shade, like a frozen lake.

And how they dont ever look ruthless or cold.

I like how i can be me around you.

The only thing i dont like is that you will never feel the same about me.

You see me as a close friend, but not a romatic interest.

It hurts.

Alot.

But i will deal with it, it may hurt but i want you to feel happy.

If you want to stay friends then its fine.

I will always do my best to make sure you are as happy as i can make you.

Because it hurts me more to see you sad.

[ra1-man]

IM STILL ALIVE (Somehow) SO HERES ANOTHER JUMBLE OF WORDS

How cool would it be if we made out in a rusty car from the 1950s?

We could trace the old moth-eaten seats with our fingers and imagine what could have happened in the car.

And when the scrapyard owner finds us we can put it all on young love.

How cool would it be if we kissed in the arches of a castle?

We could carve our initials into a stone.

And when the tour guide finds us we can blame it all on young love.

How cool would it be if you were to hug me and hold me tight behind the school?

We could talk about all the teachers we hate.

And when the janitor finds us we can say its all because of young love.

How cool woukd it be if we exchanged gifts in the parking lot of the cinema?

We could point out people and guess what their life is like.

And when people see us they will think its all young love

How cool would it be if we stayed together through college or univercity?

We can get a dorm together.

And when people see us we can show them it isnt just young love.

How cool would it be if I proposed under your favourite tree?

We can plan out our wedding together.

And we can prove it to ourselves it isn't just young love.

[ra1-man]

Guess who got bored again, I'm so gonna get writer's block (Also, two posts in a day? I'm crazy!!!)

People say Home isn't a place. I agree. Home isn't a place, but it's a feeling,a person, a sound, a memory. But not a place. Home is what makes you feel safe, not a physical thing, but an idea. You can feel safe in a place but that is because of the memories and ideas tied to it.

“My home is the small building on the hill, that's a place.” Yes, that's a place. But you only feel safe there because of your memories of growing up there, and your ideas of what it could become.

“My home is the small bookstore my friend owns, that’s a place.” Yes, it’s a place. But it still has memories and ideas tied to it.

“Well my home is the coffee-shop below my house, I work there every day. That’s a place.” Yes, a place with memories and ideas.

My home is my best-friend.

My home is the smell of fresh coffee.

My home is the laughter from my friends.

My home is that one guy, with messy brown hair and a bright smile.

My home isn’t a place, not a physical thing.

My home is in my memories and ideas. Yes, I can feel at home in a place, but that is because of the memories I have of it.

My home could be the lovely little crystal shop down the street with the lovely cat, my home can be the classroom belonging to the first teacher I came out to, my home can be the seat in the corner of a coffee shop, but that is because of the memories and ideas tied to it, because of the feelings I have experienced.

My home is a safe space, filled with memories and ideas that are dotted somewhere on a timeline I’ve made.

My home is the feeling when my friends laugh at my jokes.

My home is me.

[ra1-man]

I got bored again, so have another collection of words.

I hate the smell of decay.

It reminds me of love and innocence, just far more bitter.

It smells far too sweet for what it's connected too.

I know what it smells like because on my road was a rabbit, just too slow to beat the car.

He was left, mouth open, arms curled up to his chest.

The first thing to go was his eyes, leaving behind hollow sockets.

Then came the smell.

The foul, but sweet smell.

Nothing came for him, no-one moved him not even a fox or an otter, not a ferret or a hawk.

Not even a fly.

He was left, staring with his sad, hollow eyes.

Everyday the smell got stronger and stronger, yet he was still left there.

I wish I was strong enough to help him, I wish even more that he was faster than the car. But he wasnt, and I'm not strong enough to help.

So, everyday when I walk past I nod a hello to him.

I pretend his soul nods back and walks with me.

"How are you today Mr. Rabbit?" I would ask.

"Not that bad. How are you?" He would respond.

I know its silly, but it makes me feel better about the fact that I can't help, and that he wasnt lucky enough.

It lightens the thought, and lets me think happily.

But I will forever hate the smell of decay.

[ra1-man]

I was tired and bored at like eleven o'clock so uhh, enjoy this crappy shamble of words I guess??

If my body is a temple, then I am not part of the religion. I will watch and join the groups who de-face and damage this sacred building, and I don't care for it.

There are many people I don't know, and there are many I do. There are faces and names, but they refuse to connect.

If my body if a temple, then the minister is an 8 year old girl who believes she can do everything. She doesn't know who she will become, she only knows what she wants and who she has with her.

If my body is a temple, then the god is a teenage boy who is still trying to figure out who he is along side school and friends. He knows what he wants to do but has realised that society and his followers will not help him get there.

If my body is a temple, then the cleaner is a 20 year old guy who wants to get his partner the best present for their birthday, he believes in the religion and follows the god, looking for guidence and hope.

If my body is a temple, people excpect it to last a long time, but war and crime can affect buildings amd people more than anyone thinks. The minister, the cleaner, the god, the followers. All of them will leave and forget the church, apart from one individual, a strange person with a wide smile amd a breathy laugh. He is a friend of the god, the minister, the cleaner and the church. He has been there to help clean the graffitti, he has been there to help with the prayers, he has talked of the followers.

He is my best friend, he helps all he can and I can't repay him.

So I go to this temple, the one I've seen, the one ive damaged, the one ive ignored. I ask for help, and i am welcomed. I am welcomed by the followers, the cleaner, the minestor, the church, the god. They forgive what ive done, apart from one. A small girl who had everything. She says i took it from her, that im mean and cruel. That little girl is who I used to be, but i am no longer her. I am the guy who people have seen, looking at the church but not interacting.

But after all it is my temple, and i wont damage it for a long time, i will sit beside the god, i will talk with the cleaner, i will sing with the choir, i will pray with the minister. I will apologise to the little girl i was once fond of, i will explain what I've learnt, I will hold her hand and take her on my journeys, and she will take me on hers.