Always trying to make sense of things.
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A good relationship with time is essential. Our concept of time is simple enough to figure out: the sun rises and sets each day over the course of twenty-four hours.
By Michael Wolfe5 years ago in Motivation
I swear it felt like just the two of us Me, you and the Universe When we lay there wrapped up in each other's arms. It felt so safe and warm
By Michael Wolfe5 years ago in Poets
I can't say that. Even though you want me to. Even though sometimes I want to. But isn't this what it feels like? How it's supposed to feel?
What you see isn't real. Nor what you hear. Or what you feel. The way I smile the way I say that the way I look at you
Even on my loneliest days, she still lingers. Like a whisper calling me home. She felt like home. With a firm grasp she lifted me from the gloom and showed me light.
What do you call it? That thing deep within the recess of your mind? Nameless. Shapeless. But it's something. It's there.
You gave me your energy you can't take that back. Just as I gave you mine. You put on a good front though. Acting like we didn't use to lay up.
There I am, just minding my business–going where I'm going, doing what I do (headphones on 'cause I don't wanna be bothered)–when suddenly I get this feeling: butterflies.
Sometimes I run to dreams to awaken my reality. Trying hard to escape actuality. 'Cause when I look around all I see is tragedy.
Change comes at a snail's pace. The kind that matters, anyway. It's easy to be impatient. To get fed up. To say that things will always be the same.
Why are we so different? Are we so different? Do we not breathe the same air? Do we not bask under the same sun? What Earth are you from?
It comes from deep. Boiling, frothing, overflowing. The levee breaks and out it pours. Water–blacker than oil, offering no reflection–seeping into everything.