Mad to Live

The name's Esse.
College student. Am, and forever will be, a child. I enjoy
drinking out of straws (they make everything taste better,)
writing bad poetry,
drinking cheap red wine whilst writing said poetry,
playing the ukulele (mine is bright orange which just makes it that much more wonderful,)
amongst other non-traditionally-productive pastimes --though I beg to differ...if drinking wine isn't productive, I honestly don't know what is.

This one is for the misfitsThe ones that didn’t take shitWho never quite got itthe it that makes ‘em so fuckin different.The it that puts the “mis”where most just have the fits.
To you I say, Never.Ever.Quit. 
Don’t give in to the newest dose of bullshitset up by the so called “establishment”…Whoever the fuck that is. 
Cause I did…and look where that got me.Grumpy old man on a porch,preachin’ this old school songto you neighborhood kids.
Not a rhyme left in me.
This is all I got left;The hope that you won’t makethe same mistakes that I did. 
Well I got that,AND this ice cold beer.
See, I like to count my blessings while they’re mine to count.
Nothing lasts forever.
So hold on to every moment in this short lifewith everything you got.Holding on tooth and nailuntil you’re so very tired and bruised and calloused. 
But so very alive.
Live without regrets,and finally…Stay weird, my friends. 
Don’t lose your “mis”…I sure do miss mine. 
And me? I’ll just sit here on this old porch,trying to remember the person I was…Whoever the fuck that is. 
“The Little Boy and the Old ManSaid the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”Said the old man, “I do that too.”The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”I do that too,” laughed the little old man.Said the little boy, “I often cry.”The old man nodded, “So do I.”But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seemsGrown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.I know what you mean,” said the little old man.” ― Shel Silverstein
The second I said “Man, I need a cigarette”
…I was screwed.
You shouldn’t never need anyone or thing
That doesn’t need you.
Hearts start breaking,
And fingers start shaking,
And there’s no turning back
When you put yourself last.

The second I said “Man, I need a cigarette”

…I was screwed.

You shouldn’t never need anyone or thing

That doesn’t need you.

Hearts start breaking,

And fingers start shaking,

And there’s no turning back

When you put yourself last.

(Source: fuckingunique)

Honesty. He says I spew too much of it, and too little. I say the wrong things at the right times, and the right ones at the wrong. I understand little of social norms and even less of their importance. He says that my heart is “in the right place” but his can’t find the twisted way to meet it there. 

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She’s floating across 

the clouds of uncertainty.

Go ahead and call her flighty,

but at least up there 

she’s living free.

Free of the shackles 

our minds create and fortify

to keep us in the past,

from joining her in the sky.