There is no silence that can stifle the subtle cries of an angered soul, glistening behind placated eyes of acceptance and sorrow.
Little can mend the glass ignorantly shattered, and silent are the shards hitting the floor against a cool breeze.
Hope cannot be found in these words, for even losers can hope to win the game past when the flow of time beads against them.
With water lapping gracefully, the ice is like daggers that won't cease until the dam breaks, or until light melts the ice away.
There were no words, yet everything was said.
Staring out the window created a blindness,
that covered the truth,
and masked the emotionless vessel from the world outside.
and the other way around.
The silence created a comfort,
shadowed all remorse, all regret.
But not the burning inside.
She could not silence the cries,
that shattered the light, and brought darkness.
She was the darkness,
and the other way around.
The rain beat on the window,
as did her head;
in a controlled repetition. A cold repetition.
And there were no words,
only the silent thuds of the wheels on pavement,
the rain on the car, and the guilt on the win
the puppets dance so loosely
through the endless void
of everything that surrounds
my very existence.
everything I know
I love, I cherish,
everything I see around me
makes me feel as though
emptiness will follow me
throughout the entirety
of my lowly existence
and that I might move ahead
of the racing melodies
which so gracefully play
a melancholy song of infinite words
and infinite dreams
of infinite possibilities
to surround and to fill
so the threshold I cross
is no more than a note
passing playfully by
in my own delusion
of vivid memories
that were nothing more
and they do not stop
for any which way
or any body w
My life as a lover,
starts with the sunrise,
when the gloomy day longs,
for a breath of fresh air,
and gets nothing more,
than a gagging gulp of smoke.
I am the light.
The light that shines,
on her existence,
and lifts it to a bearable level.
One more viable.
And for her, and her love,
I am a lover.
My life as a soldier,
begins when I must love,
and when I protect love,
at all costs.
Not just my heart,
but the heart of those,
who love pure, and true.
But for my own selfish reason,
I cannot commit to the pursuit,
of love or loves cause.
So despite all the hardship,
and despite all the terror,
through loves lost gate,
I find it funny how the day,
always seems to match my mood,
and I will never know whether,
it was the day that made me sad,
or my sadness that made the day.
The gloominess hides my face,
from the gloominess all the same,
and I appear as a shadow,
To those who look upon,
my withered face.
My chest feels cold,
As does the air,
And I feel that I am to blame,
for the day being so sad.
Then the day starts crying,
and the water trickles down my face,
and all the while I feel,
as though it was my sorrow,
that ruined a perfect day.
But I will never know,
and will always wonder,
if it was the day that made me sad,
or my sadness,
I don't want to let go.
I don't want to hold on.
I can't take the stress
of the voices
as they tell me
to move on,
to let go,
to throw away everything,
at the cost of everything,
to obtain everything,
and within everything
I determine that
I am nothing,
and I see nothing,
and I feel nothing,
and I hold out my hands,
and I receive nothing,
I taste nothing,
and I breathe nothing,
and I hear nothing,
and I realize,
it's everything.
Everything I am.
Everything I can be.
Everything I will become.
And yet it is nothing.
It was a breakthrough
to discover
that I am still confused
about everything
pertaining to
nothing.
I want to slide back, quietly as possible, into the teeming muck.
I lie collapsing, taking in the stillness around me and my body;
My mind wanders up and up, towards the tipping point, tips and falls.
Flat on the ground, a haze of reeds and grass and flowers draw up around me.
I lie collapsing, taking in the stillness around me and my body.
Quaking, shaking, lacking the strength, again I try; again I fail.
Flat on the ground, a haze of reeds and grass and flowers draw up around me.
I see it, seething before me with life and stillness, so murky my eyes cloud.
Quaking, shaking, lacking the strength, again I try; again I fail;
Somethi
Fate can be so cruel...so unforgiving...
The ticking of time almost always brings sorrow, and even if you jump into life knowing this cruel destiny, it still rips you to shreds when it becomes reality...
A cruel fate indeed...what is the point of success if it only makes you that much lonelier?
Such a paradox, time is. Our best friend and our worst enemy. We want it and don't want it at the same time, whether we realize it or not. What are material things when you cannot trade it for even one second. A second more to live…a second more to love…a second more of happiness…thus making every second even the more precious.
Hell
Isn't it all about escape? About expression of repressed anger and sorrow that fills the void left through persistent social ineptitude? When does it become about the pageviews, the favorites, the watches and the compliments? When do we get so enveloped in our own talents that we miss what made us talented to begin with?
We cannot please everyone. There is no use in trying, but still people do. And those they cannot please become enemies, for they are stupid, or ignorant, or conceited, or in some other way flawed in a way in which they can't truly appreciate the gift you offer to them in your own self-righteous works.
But for some, after re
Um....you might hit me because it is something that I probably should know. Heh. i don't get to watch much anime, i don't ever get to rent cool movies, and plus we don't have cable. So i can't watch shows or nothing.