Reaching out,
How things look different
on the way down
Disillusioned,
I've lost desire
Will I burn
in the unforgiving fire?
From the flames
I walk away
I've found a way
to erase the pain
An empty bottle,
my receptacle
A guardian angel
called escape
Don't dwell
on the forthcoming,
'cause I know
it won't be happening
You know
when I'm gone,
you'll hear my cries
on the wind...
Monday, August 17, 2015
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Solo(w)
Inserting all the tools upon the broken talking dog
If bleeding dirty shadows of the drawing on the wall
A funded self of science from disorder and decay
Its chaos makes you crazy and the real is left to say
Its chaos makes you crazy and the real is left to say
Its chaos makes you crazy and the real is left to say
Its chaos makes you crazy and the real is left to say
Its chaos makes you crazy and the real is left to say
Its chaos makes you crazy and the real is left to say
Sustained weeping his leaves
The summing of trees
The simplest thing
Living in solo
Living is so low
Burn(ing)
I don't sleep much. Not because I am too busy, but because I just don't really want to. I'm exhausted all day, I get home, and could go straight to bed. But I stay up, thinking.
I keep doing the same things, over and over. I keep losing people by pushing them away, or having them drift further and further. I'm always scared to cut ties, because I don't want to sink back into myself. I try not to let myself get too dark. But I've reached a turning point, or a tipping point, or a point of no return.
Whether I like it or not, it's what I have to do. I have to go under.
I think about other people too much. I worry and miss them and put all I have into comforting them and giving them a point of positivity to draw from. I give my life too often. I can't allow myself feelings anymore. I have to go under.
Monday, August 3, 2015
I wait up, in the dark, for you to speak to me; I'm opened up; release me...
In another life, a long time ago, I did things that ruined my soul. When I was falling, I met someone that helped me grab on, and even though I still hit the bottom hard, it was a treasure to me.
When I thought I was having a heart attack from too much coke, driving down the highway in the middle of the night, it was you I prayed to, to get me home alright, because I didn't want to leave. Every time I wanted to die, there was someone that held me back. Every time we hated each other, there was part of me that could feel you still inside me, waiting for an opportunity to come back. Even when it took years.
When I was alone for months, in my room, draining and dying and losing my mind, I could talk to you. I could just lie there, even in the silence, and feel connected to you. I could feel it. Talking about the trolleys that went up the side of the mountain, and driving in the ice... I remember when I wondered when those flowers would get there, finally. You ripped my heart out more than once. I hurt you as well. But there was something that I was always left wanting. I remember all the nights, of reaching out, and feeling like someone was reaching back to me. And I remember all the fucked up nights of pain and severing. Out by the lake, wondering whether you'd survive, promising to be there for you as soon as humanly possible. All of the fucked up times, and all of the beautiful ones. I probably ruined it permanently.
And now, I get the feeling that it's being lost for good, slowly atrophying, or on the cusp of erasure, and I really don't know how to handle it. I feel childish, waiting and hoping and just fucking waiting. I feel selfish because I should be worried more about everything else than this feeling. But, throughout my life, it's the only feeling that meant something real to me. And, now that I'm not constantly speeding forward in a rudderless torrent, I feel like I have the means to make things right. But there's never the chance to. It's a microcosm of my entire life. I'm always too late, after I've fucked everything up. I'm still the ghost, walking through a play. Watching my mistakes and their aftermath.
And yet, I know that I would do everything again if I could just have one more of those peaceful moments with you. I would let myself be ripped apart forever, and it would be worth it.
If I'm crazy, projecting things that aren't real and clinging on to something just for the sake of it, believing something's there that isn't, then I need real confirmation. I keep endlessly pouring myself into this, and filling who I think you are with all these things in my brain. I'm starting to wonder if it's real anymore. The last time I felt this way, I watched someone die.
I don't try to make everything about myself, but I always sound narcissistic...
I just feel these things, and I believe in them, and I'm waiting for the day when I realize that they're not real. And I fall into myself, and realize I'm alone, and start collapsing. I don't want illusions, I want the truth, even if it's horrible. It's not about romance, or possession, or love. I need us to be in each other's lives in any form. I want to help you, and it's selfish of me to want and need all these things, but I can't live with the agony of never saying them.
There's no one that has ever made me feel the way that you do. And it's because of who you are. There's nothing brighter in this life. There's nothing like it. You're worth so much. Even if I make things worse, or make you feel even more blank. I have to say this. No one in life is as important as you are. You will be alive. I promise.
When I thought I was having a heart attack from too much coke, driving down the highway in the middle of the night, it was you I prayed to, to get me home alright, because I didn't want to leave. Every time I wanted to die, there was someone that held me back. Every time we hated each other, there was part of me that could feel you still inside me, waiting for an opportunity to come back. Even when it took years.
When I was alone for months, in my room, draining and dying and losing my mind, I could talk to you. I could just lie there, even in the silence, and feel connected to you. I could feel it. Talking about the trolleys that went up the side of the mountain, and driving in the ice... I remember when I wondered when those flowers would get there, finally. You ripped my heart out more than once. I hurt you as well. But there was something that I was always left wanting. I remember all the nights, of reaching out, and feeling like someone was reaching back to me. And I remember all the fucked up nights of pain and severing. Out by the lake, wondering whether you'd survive, promising to be there for you as soon as humanly possible. All of the fucked up times, and all of the beautiful ones. I probably ruined it permanently.
And now, I get the feeling that it's being lost for good, slowly atrophying, or on the cusp of erasure, and I really don't know how to handle it. I feel childish, waiting and hoping and just fucking waiting. I feel selfish because I should be worried more about everything else than this feeling. But, throughout my life, it's the only feeling that meant something real to me. And, now that I'm not constantly speeding forward in a rudderless torrent, I feel like I have the means to make things right. But there's never the chance to. It's a microcosm of my entire life. I'm always too late, after I've fucked everything up. I'm still the ghost, walking through a play. Watching my mistakes and their aftermath.
And yet, I know that I would do everything again if I could just have one more of those peaceful moments with you. I would let myself be ripped apart forever, and it would be worth it.
If I'm crazy, projecting things that aren't real and clinging on to something just for the sake of it, believing something's there that isn't, then I need real confirmation. I keep endlessly pouring myself into this, and filling who I think you are with all these things in my brain. I'm starting to wonder if it's real anymore. The last time I felt this way, I watched someone die.
I don't try to make everything about myself, but I always sound narcissistic...
I just feel these things, and I believe in them, and I'm waiting for the day when I realize that they're not real. And I fall into myself, and realize I'm alone, and start collapsing. I don't want illusions, I want the truth, even if it's horrible. It's not about romance, or possession, or love. I need us to be in each other's lives in any form. I want to help you, and it's selfish of me to want and need all these things, but I can't live with the agony of never saying them.
There's no one that has ever made me feel the way that you do. And it's because of who you are. There's nothing brighter in this life. There's nothing like it. You're worth so much. Even if I make things worse, or make you feel even more blank. I have to say this. No one in life is as important as you are. You will be alive. I promise.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)