(Source: lianabakbak, via itsrainingpenis)
I am…
Always hearing them say,
What they always do.
And if by some miracle, they’re spontaneous,
It’ll still be because of the other two.
-Melissa Castro
I don’t know what I want to be.
Maybe upside down it would make more sense,
Or perhaps if I wrote it all down on a piece of paper.
Truth is, as time proceeds it all becomes past tense.
Those accomplishments all become a, “I’ll do them later.”
Must I be “something”?
In this land of free, everything seems harder when it’s all up to me.
As the poor and the mighty both search for the same; bling.
Must I seize every opportunity?
Open on door, but please open the next,
I can’t seem to decide which ones best.
And how easily does it happen though, the waste of a check?
As fast as your regular, average breath.
-Melissa Castro
Shedding me.
I remember the significance of something so insignificant now,
I’ll almost never forget, how;
When the phone would ring it would ring aloud,
All over the house.
Just remembering makes me feel some shame,
How the faces and minds of the main,
No longer saw me the same.
And I alone am to blame.
Till now, like then, I haven’t changed a wink.
My apologies adolescents; just don’t you try and think,
Otherwise, my heart will sink.
I’ll be gone sooner than you know it, just blink.
Just imagining how much trouble it will all be,
Blood finding out whom I is, which is me.
Look at it with an open soul though, just see.
That it is just how it is, sorry, no magnificent dream.
-Melissa Castro
My favorite Mexican sodas. <3
Untitled: For Grandma
Even a wall is more understanding than you are,
A wall knows its place; it knows it has to stand straight and tall.
It knows that when you hammer something on it;
It will cling on, allowing whatever is hanging not to fall.
Even a chair seems to have some knowledge too,
It’s trustworthy for it doesn’t collapse when you sit on it.
It even greats and welcomes a guest better than you do,
By letting the world know it’s a seat that can be comfortably used.
Most of my days now I spend thinking,
About the happy days we shared together; blinking.
And the simple thought of it has my heart sinking.
Shit, you can’t even walk without limping.
Although I should be grateful that for you I am here,
I can’t help but to feel an utter grief when I remember that death is near.
I, without a doubt just become dumb,
As I contemplate how I don’t want death to come.
-Melissa C. Castro
Anonymous asked: if you were a Monkey, where would YOU put the trape?
no
Hey.
I feel like such a failure because I never post anything on my special blog. I have new poems coming soon, hopefully.
Peace!
Untitled #7
An effort just might not be an effort at all,
Since the little I put makes everything fall.
In doubt and in certainty, my mind is a hall.
With many unopened vessels, which will have the louder call?
In the time it takes to read a chapter of a book,
A wrinkle has taken place on my look.
My pours seem to open with each and every hard study I take,
When will we ever reach that proper break?
And even if I give my engine gas every day,
My motive isn’t to always work for what I have, my motive is play.
You elders might shake your head in dismay,
But success, I’d rather just have someone get me that way.
-Melissa Castro
(Melitha Sexton)
Taking a listen to my heart.
I cannot doubt the way my heart sways, And the joy that is brought upon my face, The way I love the essences, The way I praise. The touch of such sweet skin, Provokes an upcoming grin. And each and every time, the sensation of our hands clasping, Will inevitably end up in a wonderful stare competition; us laughing. I look left, I look right, I look up, and I look down, All with lack of importance, almost as if all is not around. Once was the night when I was lonely, With you, I could give two shits about lonely.
-Melitha Sexton
Winter. (By: Melissa Castro)
The Christmas light sparkle in your eyes; so captivating.
It’s funny though because it’s all just simple science, and something mostly anyone can do.
It’s not even something some of us can and can not do, but when it happens to you…
It’s set’s my heart on blast; like new.
I remember when you first came about, who would have known.
That our touches together would be, with out a doubt, the best shown.
At times I think how blessed am I to have shared such an event,
But what is even harder to forget is how cruel of an intention you actually meant.
Lips, ice cold hands, those you can’t forget.
But never have I had a better fulfillment of regret.
How pathetic and insignificant it all became!
We were both so helpless, and everything else around us all the same.
Still, in a shivering state,
I write for a face I can’t seem to shake.
That one moment that those lips touched my face…
Will always remain and unsolved mistake.
-Melitha Sexton
Trust no one but yourself. By: Melitha Sexton
Imagine, if you and a friend(we will call this one Billy) got into an argument, and you, oblivious of what to do, reached out to another close friend(we will call this one Fred). Fred, you trust him with all your might, never once has he dis-honed you or regurgitated anything you’ve ever said. He asked for more information, he gives you advice and you thank him with a hug for understanding. Is that wrong? Is it wrong to confide in a person like that? To believe they will purely just keep your words between both of you. Please note that whatever you said about Billy was purely because you were concerned and never meant any of the things you said in a rude, mean, or degrading in any way of form possible.
Sooner than later, Billy fixes the argument and everything is settled.
Unexpectedly, Fred goes on and tell Pat, a mediocre, about what happened with Billy. Pat goes on to inform Billy. Billy comes back to me with hate, with anger asking why would I do such a thing?
I ask you again, is it wrong to confide in a person? Apparently yes.
Individuality.
All greatness of character is dependent on individuality. The man that has no other existence than that which he partakes in common with all around him, will never have any other than an existence of mediocrity.
nonconstructive.
I spend most of my time thinking about what I want to be in the future, how much I love to write and how much I love to create art in all forms. Truth is, most of the time, I spend more time thinking about what I love to do rather than actually physically doing it. Why is that? It perplexes me.
Another complication I’ve stumbled upon is the simple fact that I can’t seem to do the simple homework assignments that are assigned to me that I would most likely enjoy. I think, “This will surely be easy, it’s only a two page paper.” When in all actuality I never get round to doing it. What is this? I carry myself around as if I got things under control, but I don’t. I don’t think of myself as such a lazy being, but I am. How disappointing.
-Melitha Sexton
