Verbatim

I buried my face in the clothes you left behind Foolishly hoping some scent remained in them for me to miss, Desperately clinging to the fibers like they couldn't accept the terms of our goodbye, Like they couldn't forget the quiver of our last kiss Faded polaroid photos.. Snapshot facades convicted in a thousand lies of happiness Even pictures could see that those memories were never meant to last And finally they and we could rest To be honest, I barely recognize the man from those photos And I've forgotten who that girl is...

I am a creator of many things, And a destroyer of more, A curator of admirers Like most collections I have no need for.. I've grown out of this affinity for love and lore Still I pine for distractions whenever I'm bored - rs.darko

I decided, after some heavy introspection as of late, that I can attribute a huge part of my success this past year and a half to my ability to finally take a step back and face my most detrimental problems from which I had been running for almost ten years. [At some point you just gotta ask yourself why tf are you tripping on stuff that happened in, like, '07! Come on now..] Some may not know this, but, as much as Vegas feels like home to me, I've only lived here for four and a half years, and this is, in fact, the fifth state I've lived in. One of the common denominators of all my moves and uprootedness was that I was always running from something... whether it was a bad relationship, pressure from my family to go back to college, or just generally my own past tendencies and reputation. I was so caught up with trying to fit the mold of what everyone was expecting of me that I lost sight of my own personal dreams, and stopped allowing myself to discover new things to l...

Who sat in this seat before me? Did they sit comfortably? Or were they cocked to one side rubbing two fingers to their left brain with the right pressed carelessly against a strange, cold window pane? On rolling, rain-spattered wheels, we find ourselves turning Over-analyzing and relearning the past in different ways Oh how the mind plays these mindless games While we pay the price of sanity, Self-esteem, comfort, security.. These are all things I never had Not saying it wasn't my bad, but how was I to know it was an early grave I'd be digging? Without it, I wouldn't also be sitting Here staring into a world of possibility Of connections to a stranger thru a shared struggle to dig these graves These memorials of lives that could be saved if only we could make a difference Change the course of this common interest.. Whether it was a brother, a mother, or maybe another We've had to sit here for decades pondering the same thing Where would this bus really ...

Alone with my thoughts Smokey scope from mental gunshots Still resounding off the table tops covered in all of our unfinished conversations.. Familiar sensations grow from familiar self-hatred Glass house inhabitant, but I still throw rocks

I woke up to a smile today, I didn't know how to feel The warmth befell my slumber and unconsciously revealed A grinning mischief, a soul entirely tangible and wet I wiped my sleepy eyes to a backlit silhouette A touch of velvet, burgundy blood and oil Annointed spring's garden in a summer soil And as they tumbled softly intertwined like wild vines They became one body, one spirit, one mind One consciousness, two halves, once seeking to be whole, Wandering the world in sadness, running blindly from the cold. "Late Summer Morning" With love [?], Reese Darko