DW-20 Now

emptiedquill:

Do you remember what the wind felt like

when we ran away last year?

Soaring over our ears like wings

Do you remember? I don’t.

First, it was the fear of a new home

that we let the empty gas tank choose

with backroads we didn’t know

and stories we’d never tell

little opportunity would ever touch our hands

because this place can only hold so much

and maybe we really weren’t meant to be here

it’s a struggle to live; I don’t think our mothers know

that we’re safe, or that we love them

maybe they think they were to blame for 

our own rash decisions that we made because

we thought we knew everything (but we don’t)

and we thought we could make it work (but we can’t)

We left to chase freedom and opportunity

but instead we found chains and society

Maybe we should load everything into the car

and try again, because I don’t feel any wind.

Should I resolve myself to a life of friends with benefits because it’s what writers do? No. 

Should I resolve myself to a life of friends with benefits because it’s what I want to do? Yeah, I could.


If it’s what I wanted.

Without wind, air becomes stale.

Without change, life is boring. 

So anytime I think I’m having deja vu, I purposefully try to change something to elicit a different response. It gives me the sense that I really have control of things, when in all reality, I don’t. I can hardly control myself.

It’s hard losing customers to death. Seeing them everyday gives you a false appreciation for who they are. Yes, he came through my drive thru every morning on time, and no, I didn’t really know the guy. But when someone brightens your day, it’s hard to lose them. 

DW-19 By Design

emptiedquill:

I thought it was a lipstick stain

that you left on my shoulder

but even my mother’s makeup remover

can’t rub it off my skin

it’s bruised; tender. Was it your design?

I wonder if maybe, my lips are still 

present on your skin as well.

Oh, and the album will be coming out soon. I’m hearing it for the first time today, so it should be like a matter of weeks.

DW-18 Tinder

emptiedquill:

Burn in my veins, once more, love

I have reduced myself to tinder

in a box that was once too small

to contain me, but I chase passion

and I yearn to feel your heat again

so take me, I won’t burn long without fuel

but all lights go out; don’t repine!

I can see no fire in life anymore

and I won’t let myself be consumed

by anger but a flame that once burned me

has captured my imagination and I dream

to be burned again, my chest seared and

my heart raw inside. I once grew and

touched the sky with outstretched hands

weathering winds and weeds

but I wanted to be burned once again

so here I am, a tiny box filled with tinder

all that I remain to be a guiding light

in the dark until I burn no more

All lights go out; don’t repine!

All lights go out; so must I!

Anonymous: What is your favorite memory?

Is it seeing Ted Dekker for the first time? Was it the feeling of holding an engagement ring in my hand for my (now) ex-fiance? Snorkeling the pacific and feeding pineapple to fish? Climbing a (relatively small) mountain and seeing thirty miles in every direction? Finishing my novel? My album? 

I couldn’t begin to tell you. 

DW-17 4AM

emptiedquill:

My mother said that nothing good 

ever walked the streets late at night

but I’m standing on the sidewalk

waiting for my love and maybe

it’ll be the same when the 

sky is filled with light. 

Nothing good happens in the dark!

Just like nothing bad ever happens

in the light. I’m not looking for bad

in the black streets with halogen lamps;

I’m looking for something open, something honest

maybe the world will stop pretending about what it is

and maybe I’ll stop pretending I’m something better

but I’m not; I can’t lie anymore

Nothing good walks in the dark

Nothing bad walks in the light!

The wind is cold, the moon is down

and my favorite dancer is walking home

I don’t believe God ever intended for this

unadulterated honesty that isn’t found at the

bottom of my shot glass or the paper

Words that leave me defenseless

that allow me to be exactly who I am

and tonight I walk home with my dancer

and I sing to myself

Maybe you were right

Maybe you were right

I thought not

but you must be right

nothing good walks the streets tonight.

potootagath:

wingleader:

wakeupslaves:

the-goddamazon:

LOL man.

never forget white people did nothing first neither the best, they sleep and eat false propaganda,

Ugh, why the shit does that have to turn into a race thing? Why does EVERYTHING have to turn into a race thing?

because white people have made sure that everything is about race

as proved by the fact that when you say explorer, you think of a bunch of white guys walking the world and discovering it ~exotic wonders~ even though Zheng He travelled through Asia, to the Middle East, and even East Africa. But you’d likely never heard of him before.

Same reason you never heard of Ahmad Ibn Fadlan, an Arab traveller who, as early as the 10th century, went to the Volga area for diplomatic reasons. He wrote about it, much as Marco Polo would do later for his own travels, and is one of our sources on what viking were like (and by all accounts, he wrote about them more accurately than western scholars of the same period did)

Oh, or Ibn Battuta who travelled throughout Africa long before europeans did, and even went to Europe himself.

And that’s just some example of Muslim medieval travel writers

Everything is about race because white people keep telling everyone that their race is the only one who every got anything done.

(Source: romancingalbion, via et-saxophone-home)