callmereality.blogspot.com

Don't Call This a Confessional

Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. I would've stitched our hearts together like the lips of the damned. You were the best thing.

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Don't Call This a Confessional | callmereality.blogspot.com Reviews

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Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. I would've stitched our hearts together like the lips of the damned. You were the best thing.

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Don't Call This a Confessional | callmereality.blogspot.com Reviews

https://callmereality.blogspot.com

Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. I would've stitched our hearts together like the lips of the damned. You were the best thing.

INTERNAL PAGES

callmereality.blogspot.com

1

Don't Call This a Confessional: Ode to Summertime Insomnia

http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/06/ode-to-summertime-insomnia.html

Don't Call This a Confessional. Ode to Summertime Insomnia. The days become longer than our legs and the nights belong more to laughter than to heavy eyelids. We can roast our hearts over the campfire,. But they'll never understand why we fear obscurity more than death. The stars read our tears and tell us that wanderlust was always a myth,. And we'll all find Polaris eventually. Because north may never be the way home,. But home is only where the heart is until it gets sick of your indecision. A link to...

2

Don't Call This a Confessional: Observations:

http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/observations.html

Don't Call This a Confessional. Line the top lid. Roll the cuffs once to the wrist, above the bone. Top knot's a knot, more for annoyance than effort. Hand towels don't stay on the hook. Pillows littered, catching falling sighs. Hips aren't as tall as shoulders, even on the side. Satin lines on the nightstand, pen in the pages, saying, "be back soon.". Before the sunset between the blinds, caught in a room that won't notice it. Ticking on the sill, time the light. Pretend you don't mind silence. That boy...

3

Don't Call This a Confessional: Outro

http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/outro.html

Don't Call This a Confessional. I would've stitched our hearts together like the lips of the damned. If it could've helped anything. I'd've kissed you like you were more than just my muse,. But i needed to taste heaven before committing to hell. There was nothing less innocent than our love. Your black and white tendencies. Were always more enticing than a technicolor alpine,. And your hands were always more thrilling.). All good things must come to an end, though, paris,. You were the best thing. That b...

4

Don't Call This a Confessional: r.e.m. is still turning when i walk away (actually literally.)

http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/rem-is-still-turning-when-i-walk-away.html

Don't Call This a Confessional. Rem is still turning when i walk away (actually literally.). Sometimes i think i'm stuck in that split second between flicking the switch and darkness. Or that infinity before the gas light turns on but after you think it should. I've heard anticipation is a gift. And i don't know if the smiths really sound better on vinyl or if the joy of finding my dad's old records is making me light-headed. And I'm done with nostalgia. Call me if you could use them. I like this much.

5

Don't Call This a Confessional: IN RECENT NEWS:

http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/in-recent-news.html

Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A link to the new playlist. Looking for Something, Eh? But i...

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heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: The Alphabet at 20

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2016/06/the-alphabet-at-20.html

Hearts beat heads beat. The Alphabet at 20. I haven't been able to write anything for a while, so I just recreated this post. From my first blog in the hopes that it would help. I'll keep you posted. Also, it's good to know that I'm a lot less dramatic now than I was back then). A is for Anxiety. B is for Boys and Booze and Bupropion. C is for Confession. D is for Dammit and Depression and Dicks. E is for Expectations and Exceptions. F is for Family. G is for God and Gossip Girl and Ghosting. And spend t...

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: June 2016

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2016_06_01_archive.html

Hearts beat heads beat. The Alphabet at 20. I haven't been able to write anything for a while, so I just recreated this post. From my first blog in the hopes that it would help. I'll keep you posted. Also, it's good to know that I'm a lot less dramatic now than I was back then). A is for Anxiety. B is for Boys and Booze and Bupropion. C is for Confession. D is for Dammit and Depression and Dicks. E is for Expectations and Exceptions. F is for Family. G is for God and Gossip Girl and Ghosting. And flower ...

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: headstone

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2015/12/youre-so-beautiful-rest-in-peace.html

Hearts beat heads beat. The bruises are fading. The nail marks have healed. But they were only gravestones anyway,. You had whispered into my skin. A lot of words. From the coke can you passed me. Fogging up my head. The markers have faded. But the words are still there. From a coke can:. I might rework this at some point. Its been a while. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). How to find things:. It's like a museum here. View my complete profile. Read this and be cool. A bad case of basorexia. Maybe i sh...

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: blood sugar sex magik (explicit) - red/hot chili peppers

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2016/01/blood-sugar-sex-magik-explicit-redhot.html

Hearts beat heads beat. Blood sugar sex magik (explicit) - red/hot chili peppers. You call yourself strong. While the tears stay inside. And you can't see past the red. Lights of the cars in front of you. And you drive away before the porcelain cracks. And you fill up with words. That never made your lungs. Feel full until now. And your fingers are cold. And so are your toes. Like they're going back to blue. And he walked away. And you don't know. And you don't care. About him driving stick. Other people...

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: December 2015

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2015_12_01_archive.html

Hearts beat heads beat. The bruises are fading. The nail marks have healed. But they were only gravestones anyway,. You had whispered into my skin. A lot of words. From the coke can you passed me. Fogging up my head. The markers have faded. But the words are still there. From a coke can:. I might rework this at some point. Its been a while. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). How to find things:. It's like a museum here. View my complete profile. Read this and be cool. A bad case of basorexia. You have a story.

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: February 2015

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2015_02_01_archive.html

Hearts beat heads beat. 3 am messes (a letter to my head). I won't turn the light on, but neither will you. You're crawling between the pages and i can't find it in myself to stop you. You tell me there's a galaxy in my eyes before you press a nail into my heart. You tell me that red shows more than black and white. You tell me that the freckles on my shoulders are the constellations the night forgot,. But you watch me fall with the setting sun. You're the reason i'm dragging this pen across the paper.

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: May 2015

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2015_05_01_archive.html

Hearts beat heads beat. I can almost feel your hand over mine. And i don't mind. I can almost feel your breath on my neck. And i don't mind. I can almost feel my feet pressing into your sheets. And i don't mind. I can almost feel your teeth pulling at my lips. And i don't mind. I can almost feel my heart beating into your skin. And i don't mind. I can almost feel your empty words tangling in my hair. And i don't mind. I can almost feel the bruises on my hips. And i don't mind. And i don't mind. I dont fi...

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: panning

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2016/07/panning.html

Hearts beat heads beat. I want you,. But i don't love you. You're in my bed,. In my head,. Drawing rivers onto my skin. And spinning my hair into gold. I want you,. But I can't love you. You're in my bed,. In my head,. Turning my thoughts into rivers. And telling me that we're gold. I want you,. But I won't love you. You're in my bed,. In my head,. The river pulling me under,. Saying my hair looks gold underwater. I don't love you,. But i want to. Just to know what it's like. How to find things:. I know ...

heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com

hearts beat heads beat: let the poets cry themselves to sleep

http://heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com/2015/11/let-poets-cry-themselves-to-sleep.html

Hearts beat heads beat. Let the poets cry themselves to sleep. It had been bugging me since last night because I couldnt remember where I had heard let the poets cry themselves to sleep. And now I just remembered. Poison Oak. Bright Eyes. I listened to that on repeat for ages. I am so embarrassed it took me a whole day to remember that line. Anyways. Always a fan. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). How to find things:. It's like a museum here. Let the poets cry themselves to sleep. Read this and be cool.

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Don't Call This a Confessional

Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. I would've stitched our hearts together like the lips of the damned. You were the best thing.

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Monday, May 12, 2014. Ghosts and spirits: Part 8. Posted by lise silva. Links to this post. I am thinking with the minds of all. Am thinking with the minds of all,. I am dreaming through all dreams, I am feeling through all feelings. The flowers of joy blooming on all heart-tracts are mine. ". Posted by lise silva. Links to this post. Themes: Animals and cats. Friday, May 9, 2014. Updates here are so long overdue! One MAJOR update in 2014 that I failed to mention here is the creation of MY WEBSITE. So mu...