Biography of Red
"Bodies have their own light which they consume to live: they burn, they are not lit from the outside."
Egon Schiele  (via radiumangel)



(on faves page) could I please have a promo of your choice? I’m close to my next thousand!
American Summer

It has been a very long summer 
like I experienced a lifetime
while I was waiting for milk to scald
if lives could be shorter and more bitter
without losing too much flavor.
In this so-so yep-yep summer life
few moments of clarity brushed my shoulder
kind but busy strangers
that would not look me in the eye
when I asked them for 25 cents
"I am out of change" they seem to mutter
as if to apologize for being a poor memory
"I am sorry you will not remember me as a better friend."
This summer I was stranded and hot for many days
with regret living in the oils of my skin
I did not have the strength to run, I never sweat.
Instead I walked briskly under the vast cypress trees
stitched onto the side of the brook
where I used to go many years ago to be by myself
but now visit so I can remember
what it is like to have convictions.
I wonder, of my memories
what is dream and what is reality?
I recall several weeks ago
saying goodbye to an old friend leaving for university
"this summer is almost over" she laughed
before getting in her car and driving away.
I do not know what good poetry is
but hearing her
I suddenly became ill with desire
to be inside myself and
to be still as it is with the emptiness of things.
This American Summer
it was long expired as time flew from beneath me
while all I could do was sit there with my memories
and want.



Not originally mine, only my edit


i just wanna be
a flower
or a cloud
not what