Greed

Stems from pride.
Wrapped up in fear
Of not having enough.
A quest to create
A wonderful life
For yourself.

gasps and sweats
stabbing hearts;
moonlight showering love

Remember Who’s Boss

In my bedroom,
freedom
screams the loudest.

Old nights
Of drinking thoughts alone;
Submerging own soul
Deep down into alcoholic miseries
From the bottle of promises
You abandoned, sober.
This dark sky is too frail
To risk breathing,
With trivial scorching ashes
Lit by a dying cigarette
I am sharing a kiss with,
When smoking memories
Is nothing better than vomiting sadness,
Then, leaving the hangover of pain.

— diakomakata

(via aprayerfortheblind-deactivated2)