i think wuji making it on my spotify wrapped playlist despite me not listening to it since march says smth abt how much i was obsessed with mdzs
Stole a moment of peace
Stood and watched the rain
Then the clouds departed
Time to face the day
“Why remain vague, when it renders life stagnant and murky? Well, if you don’t know who you are, you can hide in doubt. Maybe you’re not a bad, careless, worthless person. Who knows? Not you. Particularly if you refuse to think about it—￼ and you have every reason not to. But not thinking about something you don’t want to know about doesn’t make it go away. You are merely trading specific, particular, pointed knowledge of the likely finite list of your real faults and flaws for a much longer list of undefined potential inadequacies and insufficiencies￼￼￼￼￼.”
- Jordan B. Peterson | 12 Rules for Life
Puzzles Pt. 1
Best part of sending prints & books to people is making the box my own little diary entry ❤️👼
people dream about this. it’s instinctive.
we just want someone to look at us and hurt because they love us so much. we want to be adored. appreciated. known.
the very thing that everyone wants
is to be loved the way that i love you.
Update pic if you didn’t know I’m gay
Same day, every day; watch the
What to play till their
Hair turns grey while they wait
For that big payday;
History in the making,
Fading in the wake
Of good intentions again,
Like prolonged foreplay ending in
Copulation, the obligation to make
More of the same days, every day.
Watch the flowers grow. Inhale
And savor the Gaean
Setup for decay, invigorating
In feigned or self-preservation
Swayed ignorance; ostriching
Aching deliverance from disarray, as if it isn’t
The same day, every day.
Join the masquerade in a
Post-modern morality play.
Full circle, made.
It’s a shame, but you gotta
Fight every victory claimed
All over again.
Watch the minds being
By a dying generation
That wasn’t up-to-date in their
Devolution. Degeneration. An attack
On self-determination in plain simple
The joining this self-righteous parade
Of lives lived in disdain
To see one’s own name
On the signs that are waving,
Hushing the voice
That would say there are
More than a million names
That have the exact same
The odds aren’t favorable when it’s
The same day, every day.
The light of sun has been wavering,
And its bitter dusk
Once more proclaims
We should cover up
And hide our bodies;
And our stories;
And the history
We once planned on making,
Building on progression; guessing
The clock won’t be resetting
While we docilely sleep, regenerating;
Forgetting the cut
Underneath the band aid;
Forgetting the ghost of ‘fuck all’-past
And the way it weaponized
Slivers covertly chipped from the future
While we were sleeping.
2-12-2020, M.A. Tempels ©
he tells me he loves me for the first time while i’m wearing his sweater, i tell him the same while he wears a blush. it takes 3 days for us to realize this and admit insanity, but we don’t care. he leaves the room and i feel empty until he comes back and i’m whole again. he opens my car door which i thought the boys only did in old movies. he fixes my bed and buys me lunch and introduces me to his sister. for once, for him, i am an open book and he can’t stop reading.