Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Monday, March 26, 2007

angry words: opinion's death

Sometimes I look at you standing there and wonder where I've been. Why is it I anger you and how I can reel my heart in.
I didn't mean to push you away; knowing neither did you. But my intentions are pure I love you to death and I'm not going to let anger be this love's cure.
When you tell me I'm nothing and you see me crying, and you leave me alone all night. I silently sober, lighting the pyre inside me, it's leaving char-marks and bullet size wounds.
I didn't sign on to be a maid. I didn't love you for these piles of junk. I want us to be happy again. And maybe, could we again be friends.
You told me my opinion mattered, you said I was right to question things. I look at your books and recite my feelings and you tell me I'm wrong, just plain wrong.
Why is I hide me from the light of your eyes, why is it you blind me with words. So simple, your mantra, keep quiet and still, only the necessary gets said.
Yet I'm so different, seeking you guidance, spouting opinions and dread. I want your words, I provoke your feelings, I want to know what you think.
And in doing this horror, speaking my mind, you recoil, you lash out, and you wound.
At least, now I know, what you think of me.


I look at you standing there and wonder where I've been.
Why is it I anger you; how can I reel my heart in?
I didn't mean to push you away; knowing neither did you.
This anger you bide with is no cure.
When you tell me I'm nothing and you see me crying,
When you leave me alone all night.
I silently sober, the pyre inside;
Leaving char-marks and bullet size wounds.
I want us to be happy again. And maybe, again be friends
You said opinion matters; you said to question was right.
I look at these things and tell my thoughts;
And you tell me I'm wrong, just plain wrong.
Why do I hide from the light of your eyes;
Why is it you blind me with words.
So simple, your mantra, keep quiet keep silent:
Only say what needs be said.
Yet I seek you guidance, spouting opinions and dread.
Provoking feelings, I want to know what you think.
And in doing this horror, speaking my mind, you recoil:
You lash out, and you wound.
At least, now I know, what you think of me.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Gone.

Wanting the noise of silence, feeling this burn and pain, I
Don’t know if my mind is alive or if my heart even beats a
Refrain. I do know that I'm cold this night; that my
Bleeding feet are numb. And when you touch my hand I melt;
When you look at me I'm alone. No one is here around me, no
Scrutinizing eyes, not the ground can open to swallow me
Whole, nor can the sky blow away my ashes. No, I have your
Eyes and hands upon me, I can smell your sweat and your
Tears, feeling your cheek close to mine, to taste your blood
Mixed with pain. In this moment with you, I live; I breathe
For once clean air. And darling in needing your gently
Murderous touch, I fake it, I lie and I hurt. Because,
While I tell you I need you dear, I nurture your need for
This love. And though I want for us this forever, I know
In a moment, like smoke and ash to stiff breeze; I'm Gone.

Labels:

commonality

It seems that every time I turn around I'm bombarded with the constant reminder that nothing I do is original. I believe this is the curse of knowledge, the realization that you are not alone, that there is someone out there smarter than you who has thought up what you have just "discovered" and they had done it centuries ago. Nothing I could possibly think, do or write can possibly be original, not anymore, not after being exposed to so much that has already been done. In this world of 6 billion beings, multiplied by millenia of thought and careful consideration, there is no song unsung, no book unwritten, no thought safe in it's own true and pure sanctity. There is no virginity in this world. We have all defiled the pool of existence with our filth of thought and knowledge.
Instead, now there is only left one thing:
Sell it better than the last guy did.
The corruption of money.
Yes, even I would fall victim to the corrupting power of the capitalist society I'm lucky enough to live in. This, if I thought there was going to be a future to ruin with greed. But thanks again to this "exposure" my education is giving me, the possibility of there being a tomorrow, too is ruined for me.
Thank you college, you have fucked me.
As you have in the same way done to so many before me.

Thanks for this depressing view of the world.
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