Saturday, August 21, 2010

No punctuation.


Alone my chest grows heavy as I heave my self from my morbid sleep. Lifting my body, not my spirits, up into the world. I start to walk to the other room, where my reflection awaits me with that daunting stare. A stare not of admiration, or of pity. But a stare found somewhere between the two. I raise a hand, slowly, always carefully, I do not wish to frighten the stare away. I raise it close enough to touch the fair skin of one cheek, only close enough. Never touching, I dare not touch her. I search through her gaze, as she searches through mine, both of us not exactly sure what we hope to find. I am afraid to find something in her that I am not able to reveal to myself. The truth I know but can not say aloud. The green eyes I stare into, are looking into hazel. I have changed, the colors have changed. Where will I be when I live next to water, on the coast of a new horizon, where the moments may not seem the same. Where the moments I once got lost in, may no longer exist. Will I be happy. Will I suddenly seem so alright. Will I not miss them. I do not punctuate these with question marks, because I am not sure they can be classified as questions. I do not wish to ask them, I do not wish to know these answers.


A rush of water drowns my thoughts and my face is now wet, I have caused her to disappear.


Alone, my chest feels heavy once again, if not heavier.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

another side


I've viewed another side of me, the side in which I can stare at. A new personality, I think I prefer the old one, the non slut. You have always been a tease, a terrible one, lets push em till the point of no return. Admirers for life, or decades at least. Keep them guessing, keep them wanting, keep them needing you. They see the sweet side, the side you want them to witness, the other side the truthful side you burry, deep, deep inside of you.

NEVER LET THE SECRET SEEP.
keep it deep.

For this is your cruel entertainment.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

the rain has come


Fog over a lake, reminds me of the fog in my mind, that I've been lucky enough to ignore for some time. On a vacation, I neglected to pack my insanity, happily leaving it behind. Here time has no meaning, a week breezes by, no connection to the outside world, no judgement. The rain has come to rescue me, give me the wet air I need to regain my insanity, which apparently makes me sane? It's all becoming too complicated. Tracking my thoughts... I do not like what I hear, its negative, always negative.