cool and crisp to the taste.
with every sip, you’re a little closer.
drink you away?
more like drink to remember you.
lost between those fragments of reality and blurs of yesterdays.
somewhere in the daze, i find your soft kiss again.
and it’s as if you still loved me
as if it never stopped.
I did this guide about the different types of tattoos. if you think I forgot something, please let me know!
UV tattoos: http://1337tattoos.com/tagged/uv
White ink: http://1337tattoos.com/tagged/white
*nope, I don’t have a category for new and old school because at least 60% of my daily posts are in these styles. you can look for something more specific on the categories page.
I’ve updated this post with white ink and realistic tattoos as requested. the quality of the images are crap, but tumblr won’t let me upload more than 10 images. also, I can’t believe the number of notes this has :o
Tattoo is set for January. I was on a legit 6 month waiting period. Got to be ready for it.
"and what’s really stopping you? what’s really stopping you from making that glimmer of an idea into a reality?"
there really are no barriers left.
high school is long gone.
college was completed.
a career was found.
a love all mine.
all i need.
i want to hear the whirs and whizzes of escalators taking traveler and luggage towards a home or escape. i want to grip my ticket as i count the yellows gate numbers ascending upwards. i want to watch her kiss him like it’s the last as his fingers leave her for his bag. i want to notice the little boy who runs between the endless rows of chairs lost in his own game, own world. i want to feel the rush of a breeze with each passerby. i want to get lost staring at the endless amount of little stores, kiosks, and thousands of scents from each. i want to watch planes rise through indigo skies and a red sun.
i’ve seen much, but it was never a choice for me then.
i want to visit for the first time.
i want to go back.
..i want you to be there with me.
i want to take you to london during the holidays as it’s lit up green and red.
i want to take you to paris as a warm summer dawn rises in front of street side cafe.
i want to take you to venice as the floating city comes alive with sparks of glitter as all roam through channels and streets with masks.
i want to show you all the places.
all of them.
all of these beautiful places.
because as i saw these beauties on my own, standing there trying to breathe in the moment, trying to memorize the colors of that building, or the looks of that light, because as i stood there in front of these wonders
i felt alone.
there was no one to share the moment with. there wasn’t a hand i could slip into mine, intertwining our fingers. there wasn’t a you
and i’m pretty sure, you would have made all the difference.
"so what do running backs do?"
i stared at her in astonishment. the look on her face was genuine. she was puzzled.
"are you serious? look at their name. what on earth do you think their name implies? runnnnnnning—baaaaaack"
i couldn’t stop laughing.
she couldn’t stop pinching me.
and it wont stop.
fragments of my yesterdays creeping into my present
when my fingers were leaving your hips to say goodbye, but the look in your eyes asked me to stay. underneath streetlights and stars, your fingers pulled me closer.
it’s the clutter of those other days that have me unfocused at times.
infatuation, liking, lust, passion, and the worst of them all—wondering.
and the saddest part was it was all felt for the perception i had of you and how we looked.
i fell for who i thought you were,
and was crushed by who you actually were.
because expectations very rarely match realities..
still… there was an instance. there was still a look in your eyes. there was the way i put my around you and your head tipped closer to my side. we will always have that instance.
and nothing more.
it’s a very odd thing. loving, sappy, hopeless romantic inducing love songs use to hook me and swirl me in a clout of emotion until a bust of words and brilliance came soaring from my writing.
it’s a very odd thing because now i have to coax it out of me. it’s foreign almost. it’s very hard to reach into that emptiness when you know for a fact your whole, when you know your loved.
still, poets need passion, and this type of unrequited passion can only be found in my past now.
im finding it terribly difficult to write something noteworthy this morning.
i’ve agreed to write (on here at least) once a week.
but there isnt much to relay.
life is quick.
moments are quick and so are regrets.
but it seems like everything is being swept out of my consciousness.
pressing matters fill those spots until an objective is met and the process is repeated.
and somewhere in the thick of things, i miss reading.
i get so caught up in analyzing their paragraphs, checking to see if their content matches their theses, remarking on their use of imagery, or barely being able to decipher an “e” from a “c” with their writing that i forget to read simply for reading’s sake.
it’s time again.
maybe i’ll pick up that book instead of grade this first block.
writing is never lost.
it just takes an experience, a quiet pause in the day, and no one else around to express the thoughts.
that way, you can tell yourself exactly what you want.
it was a bad day.
to put in any other way would be a lie.
to say anymore would send me back into those several steps of dealing with grief.
but in that moment, i wanted my vices.
i craved for them like a junkie towards his fix, like an asthmatic towards air, like a little boy for his mother lost in sea of strangers.
a slip up and a sip
hemmngway would be upset if i didn’t write while i did it. since i cant drive under the influence, it only seems fitting that i write instead. i will soon have to test what a muse can whisper to a man as he sways while he walks and speaks freely.
to be honest, this habit has only formed recently. high school came rushing back to me and that part of me was revived—the athlete. surrounded in the stench of lockers, stuck in the swelter of a glowing sun, accepted into a group with the same desire to lift heavy, talk shit, and laugh it all off long into the night. what do you think we drank during those late friday nights? flavored teas?
i have to admit. i miss this part of high school. the camaraderie between boys. it doesn’t change for coaches. the only difference is we dont have to hide our beers in public.
it took a lot for me not to turn to a bottle when yesterday went sour.
———- ugh —————-
writing is never done. it’s due.
i wanted to write about so may other vices i wanted to turn to yesterday. but maybe that will be saved for another day.
i will return soon. like i always do. like you always do.
…we can say goodbye, but you and i both know we could never let go.