Secretive Dreams

I’m no hero. Heroes don’t come back. Survivors return home. Heroes never come home. If anyone thinks I’m a hero, I’m not.

—Bob Feller

Youth, Daughter

Shadows settle on the place, that you left.
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.
Destroy the middle, it’s a waste of time.
From the perfect start to the finish line.

And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.
Setting fire to our insides for fun
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong
The lovers that went wrong.

We are the reckless, 
We are the wild youth
Chasing visions of our futures
One day we’ll reveal the truth
That one will die before he gets there.

And if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.
We’re setting fire to our insides for fun.
Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home, 
It was a flood that wrecked this… 

… and you caused it… 
… and you caused it… 
… and you caused it… 

Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silouhette, 
A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget, 
My eyes are damp from the words you left, 
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.

And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one, 
‘Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun, 
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I’m forever missing him.

And you caused it, 
And you caused it, 
And you caused it

They say life is the thing, but I prefer reading.

—Logan Pearsall Smith

Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.

—Anne Carson, Introduction to Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides (via ancient-serpent)

(Source: filthiestlaugh, via ancient-serpent)