No Generation Of My Own
It is a lonely place, waiting for the world to catch up, knowing maybe no generation ever will.
Navigating complex emotions of jealousy, ambition, insecurity, joy, fear, peace, anger, happiness, betrayal, contentment, disappointment, love.
It is a lonely place, waiting for the world to catch up, knowing maybe no generation ever will.
Surviving in style is for the strong.
He’s an artist of reality. He shootsseconds after the shutters clickwhen people aren’t posing anymore. Only with his eyes.
How can any one of us possibly measure what pain means to another? Who can truly determine which problems are bigger than others?
Do you know why I look out of the window?
Drawing boundaries and letting people go is hard but worth every atom of personal growth.
It’s a post-apocalyptic world inside my head. Watching ‘Deadpool’ was a nasty reminder. But so was sympathy from a stranger.
Everything fights to make an impression. You’ve been a tap-tap-tapping rhythm from one snooze button to the next. Yet, you remain unimpressed.
A friend defined love as ‘a form of OCD’. I pondered the idea and it gave me a way out of an end-of-love situation.
In narrow escape routesInside games of shameYou hidBreathing unabashedAnd that’s where I found youDefiant refugees together,We loved. *Read my other Love Poetry. Or listen to it.