Last night

I thought of you again
Experiencing it all again
Dreaming of you again
Now worrying again

Like the mother I have never been.
Like the Father I have discovered.
Like the sister I have faked.
Like the brother I, for you, kept.

If none of this makes sense to you, then this is not for you.
But if it does, then tell me, and explain to me what you once called family.
What you once called home.
What you once called me.

Micaiah’s xoxo

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It all starts somewhere

Somewhere far away
In a place you’ve been
But can’t go back
In your journey
That lead you to your destination
Even if you did go back it wouldn’t be the same
But you find that place was more significant than you ever truly thought possible
Especially since it was faded.
Almost forgotten.

Your past is all that past is. Until it’s your present future.

Micaiah’s xoxo

a Forgotten Treasure

A forsaken diamond,
Abandoned name,
Lost soul,
Dead body.

Yet even in the grave shines a sliver rock; a skull of memories born…

Created from the most natural beauty only to be founded into our fake universe of thought and imagination.

Where skills and time is worth money and experience. Choices galore, freedom, a myth. But we still want more and know not what is the best.

Social creations, how? Technology will take over so positivity it will be unnecessary for our existance yet…even now…  We are so unnecessary.

Other than for one another.
Like we were, once upon a time, for each other. It seems not so anymore. As no acception to the rule I am forgetten.

You and me; no more.

Micaiah’s xoxo

A poem

Is a secret code
Sometimes easily hacked
Sometimes left for the independent locksmith.

Could be a romance,
Or a cry for help,
There’s always a story to share…

It’s always about some you care
About too much, that leaves you feeling so much, overwhelmingly so that the need to express becomes compulsory.

Micaiah’s xoxo

I wish to write in secret

As this way I can be heard but not seen.
Yet, I’ve been found by the closest around me… But of course, this is the closest of me.
Even strangers who follow me so generously with their time probably know more about myself than those who’ve sat next to me for ten years of school.

It’s all about representation and reputations. I don’t care too much what you think of me, though I will go out of my way to make at least a kind acquaintance, for mutual benefits, I assure you.

Funny, my post started with my need and desire to withdraw my self from the exact thing I went on to talk about so graciously. Maybe I do have too many people around me. What can I do about that though? I’m not going to stop being friends with anyone…

But I do know who I’d hold on to with my life.

Students

http://saroproject.com/

I wanted to remember this link and share it for those who want advice on discounts, finances, jobs and important studenty-life stuff – and let’s face it, who wouldn’t? 

Only reading it through now has already given me a better understanding of my future and is giving me time to think about it.

I am constantly being told “oh you’ve got ages, we’ll think about it later” about university, career paths, even things like how to get into a concert underaged :$ (wish me luck guys)  yet everything seems to creep up so quickly:

Gcses for example, I remember talking about my options and now I’m just a few months away from my real exams…

I also want to thank studoolsite for linking me to their pages and useful information.
I recommend a read.

Micaiah’s xoxo

I got into bed and it was cold.
Fresh thoughts blinded my nostrils in a sense of chaotic randomness.
I am left in nothingness and the thought of you.

My legs shake, my pulse vibrates, maybe that energy drink is still in my system. Yet my body is so weak I cannot lift my left leg to dismount the heavy pain it is causing my bruised knee. Too lazy, that’s me.

My heart aches with passion, tinted dark with the temptation of your temperture. My morals painted tertiary mixed too erotically to go back.
Instead I am left with this muddy vision of earth and our lot.

Glasses, like geeky instagram filters and overpriced, old wines whining like vain princesses. As my prince reveals his hot hand of help – of derision. It’s smug grin created from manipulatively seductive mockery.

I am not subtle? Am I not the Brazilian jaguar you dream of so timidly in your logically strict, unstoppable brain. Maybe not.

Keep it hidden, what you dream of. As my dreams are curses and your curses are vulnerable secrets no one knows. Hiding away from their master’s subconscious.

Micaiah’s xoxo