washed-up-toast-blog - Tumblr blog

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“Adulthood should not be spent undoing the damage of adolescence.”

— @sixwordssayitall

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But it shouldn’t, and that makes it matter even more

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Give me something with substance

“See, I’ve been to hell and back so many times I must admit you kind of bore me.”

— Ray LaMontage, Empty

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I write about decades past

like I write about recent days

time passes

like time hasn’t passed

because so much

stays the same.

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I can’t stress enough how cool it is to be a writer/artist! Like sometimes people will say it’s lame or dorky or something but you are taking something that doesn’t exist and making it a reality (in a way), like you’re converting pure imagination into a visible form! Can’t you see how amazing that is? That’s like a superpower! Use your superpower!

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just let me sleep

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Earth is just as colorful yet we never stop and marvel at its beauty

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i will never write another poem

at least once a day i think i will never  write another  poem. i have run out of  things to write about, ideas,  i don’t leave the house  enough to make stories to write,  and then i  remember that everybody from your middle  school English  teacher to  Ernest  Hemingway has been faking it the whole  time and i  can do it all again like i’m  washing my pits  in the shower,  like i’m putting on socks,  pretty easy and  natural and it  might not be decent but nothing ever was. 

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Freedom might just be another word for disappearance

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on to the next one

not everything has to be published,  you know,  not everything has to be perfect,  you know.  like this poem,  it’s not saying much, it’s a hair of  a schoolboy’s head,  fallen out, floating to the ground, to be stepped on,  trampled on, i’ll forget it before you do.

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For the past 17 years, actually.

Ive been in a weird mood for the past 3 months

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Me too

This might sound weird, but sometimes, after the washing machine is done washing the clothes and I open it’s doors, I feel this warmth from the freshly dried clothes and this amazing fragrance of detergent wafts through the air which makes me so happy and excited for some odd reason and makes me want to just sit and enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

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i don’t get novels

novels  i don’t get them, 

they seem to be the goal of most writers but it’s like my lady’s father says, 

“history is  magnificent  enough, why make stuff up?”

it’s very like us to spawn new worlds when we’re still mystified by the one  we’ve got. 

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People are so much easier to love when they aren’t around

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Our love is 6 feet under, I can’t help but wonder if our grave was watered by the rain- would roses bloom, again?