In Debt

With the amount of broken hearts, I have had

I am surprised there is still more to give

Even when I feel there is nothing left at all

I give this piece to you, please do not break it

Because every piece I give is one less piece I have

I am not sure how much more I have left to give

Cupid

What was hidden has been found.

I know you will have questions while you read this, well let me tell you, I will answer them as I go.

 She had blues eyes, enjoyed the company of flowers, admired the thought of a heart felt romance.

                                                                She wore a tattered smile in her eyes.

She carried roses on her hip

                                                                She found bullet holes in her heart.

Her fingers dripped with blood.

But What if I said.

Her deep blue eyes held so much pain she could only smile.

The roses on her hip. Marked a grave filled with pain.

The bullet holes are from cupid who traded his bow and arrows for a gun that day.

Her fingers only dripped with blood because she finally found where her pain was coming from.

Her mind overfilled with substance.

All she could do was take on your pain and be strong for you.

You never saw the substance of invisible tears falling down her face.

She never let you see her mind, she only let you see what she wanted you to see.

All you ever saw was a blue eyed blond-haired beauty sitting in front of you.

But something in my heart tells me that you did not even see that.

Her mind was hidden from all to see, because the thoughts that ruled her mind became the darkness she desired.

Her brain was her charm, it had you fooled with that gorgeous smile. But did you ever look into her eyes when she smiled?

It is as if a canvas was being pulled tight against a frame waiting for an artist to paint a masterpiece.

This canvas was stretched one to many times, and when she smiled you could see a corner of what is hidden in her mind.

All the pain pushing against a gorgeous canvas in her eyes.

Did you ever see the grave of her pain, covered in roses.

The roses only decorated the life she found in the pain she had walked through.

Gently run your hands down her hips and you will feel more life in the lines that pulled her skin than you ever will in this world.

This world is a funny place, it lacks a certain amount of pain.

Because she knows pain so she collects the pain of the lonely and takes it on as her own.

Because she never wants to see anyone walk alone.

Her fingers only drip with blood because cupid decided to use something more powerful than an arrow.

Hoping it would only but intensify the meaning of love in the heart of a lover.

Cupid did not miss, he got her right where he wanted her  .

Her heart filled with bullet holes she bled, but she never knew what it was.

Her hand mended your heart and guide your walk.

As blood dripped from her fingers she never paid it much attention.

She gave it all to say the least.

Little did you not know she never believed in cupid.

She had seen to much broken love in her short life.

But she believed in you.

One day she awoke and felt something missing.

Something was hurting and not right.

She felt a call to the void.

As she reached for her chest, her hand felt a gapping hole.

One where her heart use to rest.

Little did she know Cupid was real and he was nothing but a thief with pleasant memories.

She found a little piece of her heart

A piece you left hanging on her rib cage as you so carelessly ripped it out.

She wanted this small heart as far from her as possible.

She took a string and tied it to her wrist, and let it dangle on the thread.

She was already use to her heart hanging by a thread so why not do what is comfortable.

Drug through the dirt, and mud she forgot she had placed it so far.

One night she met a man who wanted to see her heart so bad,

He reached for her chest to see what he could find.

To his demise his hand was searching in an empty space.

He looks up at her with tears in his eyes

A smile in her eyes, she could not feel he was searching for something he could not find.

At that moment he saw her pain.

Living life coasting down a hill that had no end.

You had hurt her so properly not even the universe could fill the void she had.

The universe became jealous of the blackness that was laid in her chest.

How could she lack the existence of life and care so deeply for those around?

She was a miracle, a miracle only he could see.

How are you able to survive the life you have been given

When your heart hangs from the string.

Tangled around your feet you stumble.

But you seem so very humble.

What has caused the passion for the pain around you?

Let me fill that dark void with the stars from my sky.

Maybe the light will guide you and illuminate the hanging arteries in your chest.

This is where you heart lie,

And here is the piece of you I find.

Lucid

“That was her. 

Pure, lucid, evil.

I’d sleep all right with that on top of me.”

-Bertolt Brecht 

Fascination that had found me dumbfounded. To be pure is to be blemish free, to be lucid is to be known, to be evil you must lack the other two qualities. 

I was once told, “I’ll protect you.” I remember being told this by a 110lb girl that stood before me holding my hand. I laughed slightly because I am a 250lb man that has always been the protector. But then quickly I gained composer over my laughing, because this was something no one had ever told me, not even my father. Sure he demonstrated it but never said it.

These powerful words rolled off my lovers lips. Never had I ever seen someone stand up for me like her. She had a way with words that demanded respect in the most polite way, but also cut with fiery to any ropes of affliction attached to me. She would strike my foes down with several well placed words. No one had been that person to protect me. That was an action of love.

“I will always care for you.”  Never utter those words again, because the way you talk to me does not resemble ‘care’ it doesn’t even resemble a friend. You treat me as I am your foe now. I do not udenserstand why, I never cheated, never left you, never abused you, never let you down, never let your tears fall, never let you take on troubles alone. I rescued you. . . so you had once said.

But now you speak to me as if I owe you something.

Just remember I said I’d always be here for you together or not and that is something I ment. You’re the one that is not.

》Runner ¤

I am a runner. known to drop everything and disappear for months at a time, but never abandon those in need. This is not because I am a coward, or irresponsible it’s just who I am. Once I ran away from a dream job in a photography studio and never looked back. That ‘once’ was with a girl who is in my past.

Now I am at square one, discovering who I am. . . Again. . .
I am >
25 years old.
male.
Working corporate America one penny at a time.
Recently Abandon.
New to blogs.
Been around travel all my life.                     [This is all I know]

That’s all you need to know about me. But eventually I will show you some threads that hold me together.

I have been to or driven through all the lower 48. Drink coffee, and no not that Star***ks water. More like my personal home roast, or small coffee shops with clever names.

Lived in West Africa for a good portion of time.
I enjoy photography and cinematography.
And also I have a passion for exploring and getting lost.
A passion is a strong and uncontrollable emotion.

That emotion felt is a feeling that triggers an action. This emotion is what I’ve called running.

Everything is changing, so it is time for me to leave. Recently I had a really terrible breakup that left me in a very unfamiliar physical state, emotional state, and predicament. You can read the last several blogs to gain a grasp. But you will never fully know for I retain secrets and not all is to be shared.

I have recently found my self in my passions again, roasting coffee, photography, traveling. My blog is taking a turn for the good. Yes my heart will still bleed on the pixellated screen, but it will be shown in my journey. My work has oppressed my soul, my past has crushed my spirit. It is time for me to go . . .

*All images are my own, please ask for permission to use*

To the moon and back…

“I love you to the moon and back” is the most painful type of love one can express. Why is that? Because the outer limits of nothingness between us and the moon will test your strengths. The space will consume you and tear your body apart. So therefore I love you to the moon and back. I am willing to be bloated from the mass quantities of nitrogen, and am willing to lose my breath in the absence of oxygen. As all my organs shut down my heart will still beat. I am willing to starve my brain just to show you love. And once I touch down on the moon and am revived, I will spring back to you to complete my journey of Love. To be honest I won’t make it back alive for entering your atmosphere fire will consume me. But at least you know I attempted to show you love.


We love to the moon and back, but always fail. Because we assume enough is never enough.


signed “the over thinker”