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today is the day i give it all up today is the day it is lost to me today is the day i burn my poetry ... if you could even call this crap that. good bye. |
LiveJournal for digitalicious deviant.
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| Monday, April 12th, 2004 |
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today is the day i give it all up today is the day it is lost to me today is the day i burn my poetry ... if you could even call this crap that. good bye. |
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one more time uplift me just once more bring me again and again take me forever as yours love me for all time please never more |
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choke down this artificial sweetner to make everything so much better with this counterfit connfection take away the trepidation wipe away all your tears jealousy will tame your fears consumed by the conflagration rage is your face in action hate yourself for your impracticality you caused the end with your triviality |
| Thursday, November 20th, 2003 |
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red hot coals are searing my skin the pleasant tingle of the after burn backdraft reburning heat destroying the calm scorching the mattress leaving patterns behind tainted red on the skin |
| Saturday, November 8th, 2003 |
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it looks like everything is going perfect, but no one knows the truth. the sun is rising, i must go soon. i can't stay in the same place forever. i definitely knew too much. unlike me, who sees only now, do you get nervous thinking about what comes after this? i don't particularly feel like walking in front of anyone. but i don't feel like walking behind anyone, either. light and shadow are really the same thing. if you close your eyes, you can see them on your own. things aren't random; maybe everything is inevitable. no matter how far apart we are, we're always under the same sky. as out, tale of two people begins here is filled with anxiety and hope. maybe life is valuable as it has no forms, maybe it is beautiful and cruel. sometimes you realize just how pitiful you are and you crash into reality. it must be impossible to live without hurting anyone. |
| Wednesday, November 5th, 2003 |
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haha! this a unique show in the nostalgic ambience of the hollow mirrored mind. the palace of mirrors in art of bleeding style with its intimitable atmosphere echos the guest performance in empty halls. dance with the splendid women of twisted sweetly lies on the tongue and with the delicious men with costume. only god can live here with their beauty and lies to see through it. lights of color crafted for blinding haunting this empty vessel. only god can live here with no consequence. |
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if i was not a clerihew, i would be a trilot (or something like that). unsure am i of myself, but i agree with this more than other things recently. |
| Tuesday, November 4th, 2003 |
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you are with me you are in my veins, my blood riding my highs and lows i love you you know this yet you won't let it happen WHY? |
| Thursday, October 30th, 2003 |
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Breathe in for luck, breathe in so deep, this air is blessed, you share with me. This night is wild, so calm and dull, these hearts they race from self control. Your legs are smooth, as they graze mine, we're doing fine, we're doing nothing at all. |
| Tuesday, October 7th, 2003 |
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empty and ripped out like a magazine photo left behind memories of a foolish dreamed romance if only it were real but theories are never true it will never be me can i die for you? bleeding and dying crying and sighing if only things were as real as i thought they were a sickness taking over blinded by the feelings diseases rot me from the inside out if only if only i could if only you would let me if only you would let me die for you |
| Sunday, September 28th, 2003 |
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fractured splinters of emotion cutting like the seraded blade within my kitchen drawer my hand on the hilt fingers gently curled to pick it up cold against skin bleeding the things i cannot say my arms cry for me instead of my eyes |
| Saturday, September 27th, 2003 |
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staring down the steel barrel of a browning with the cold metal warming between accepting eyes will never prepare you for life or the emotional stress that caring for someone will put a beating heart through watching the finger carefully waiting for the moment the hand tenses before pulling the trigger is the only chance you have of feeling fear the bullet will enter your brain just as you hear the noise simultaneously a clean death, less painful than most but if the gun turns away and only fires through your shoulder, a hot-cold burning pain will spread through your body from the wound out you may or may not die; a aching heart feels similar why did i choose to play with love rather than guns? |
| Thursday, September 25th, 2003 |
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petty and jealous like a sparrow wants to be a parrot i want to be someone else |
| Wednesday, September 24th, 2003 |
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selfish, selfish. jealousy. i hate myself. what is mine is mine. belongs to me. ME! no one. nothing. simplicity. swing swing. forsaken simplicity to become the complexity of my life. fuck. fuck. FUCK! kill, kill, blood. mind hurts. brain sore? heart breaking, brake, broke. broken. gone. dead? dead. lost to me. no longer mine. forsaken, forsaken. bleeding .. slowly decay. decaying morals. what are morals? do i have morals lost, forsaken, dead. gone forever? gone for now. wounds smarting. be back never? |
| Monday, September 15th, 2003 |
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a glass heart is terribly fragile so beautiful and transparent to be crushed in a hand easily like a dream on a waking breath to say one does not expect something is a lie more false than most anyone can expect few can intercept losing the abilty to protect from inner monsters and the hideous burning self hurts more than anything else the soul will decay before the body if only i hadn't sold it |
| Wednesday, September 10th, 2003 |
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to end that which is nature to kill one's predestined trait to mutilate the soul a winter is cold and at times i think i should be colder why is it that hope cannot be killed as easily as kindled? |
| Thursday, August 28th, 2003 |
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pain is subjective and i have realized this for a long time it can be anything you want it to be, pleasure, fun, joy .. yet i choose for it to hurt, to bring sorrow and tears. i let it rip me to shreds and i have come to believe it is one of the few constants in my life i hate it so much, yet i am not ready to give up pain all together after all, isn't it better than nothing? i'm beginning to wonder again. |
| Monday, August 18th, 2003 |
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fuck it, too blah to write my life is an online blog |
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to rip into pieces and bleed your pain is the most marvelous gift and of all pills sorrow is by far the strongest killer but when rage takes hold and anger strikes through blistering ice first worn nothing but hatred for life and it's actors can be left |
| Monday, August 11th, 2003 |
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run along the cold edge of a knife slitting open your soul to bleed the tears inescapable from your heart. cover the wounded heart lying on your sleeves of false comprehension while you wonder if it is really the same. scream for me the drying orange and deepening the scalding ashes falling from the exotic world hidden from eyes. while ancient erotic lungs fill with the love of passion and simplistic lies the newborn heart freezes in lush heat. now if you can really understand the words spun from the spiderweb this devious stranger admires the strength in which you draw from. |
LiveJournal for digitalicious deviant.
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