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And Tonight My Prayer Was XIIIAnd tonight my prayer was:
You once asked me: "Why do you look to the ground when you walk?"
"So I can see where I am treading." I said. "Why do you look to the sky?" I, equally bemused.
With a smile you reply "So I can see where I'm going."
The Society and The IndividualI was born independent and the biggest mistake I ever made was falling into the arms of society. Free will has become an option, and that is where we have all lost ourselves. You can either choose to live, or avoid the things you will never know by experiencing things at your own discretion.
We are the creator of our own lives.
100ThemesChallenge - WrathWe saw them kick you and beat you until you were lying, bleeding in the dirt. Broken and tired, with tears running down your face, you stood up, opened your arms, and hugged the entire world.
We Are Prostitutes And JunkiesThe ribbon binding our cervical ribs together
is resolved fire and
quantum mechanics wrapped in beat-one-egg-until-fluffy.
Cut your teeth on my frightened way of life,
point fingers at the spiders in my closet,
I told you
together we could divide the universe by zero
and find the answer in the rubble.
But I was too delirious
to write down the name on my night-stand,
so I might have been wrong.
Forewarning was rolled off my shoulders
and picked up by the orphans
who wanted to have a life,
and yesterday I found
why I must listen.
are no more entrancing than my sighs, you said.
The sway of her fiending lusts
held no ground, you said.
But I told you poets never find
Strangers tell me I should eat more,
the world is not nearly as revolting as I write it;
I told you the sun would swallow us up one day
and you asked
what became of my opium laced assumptions.
The Dirty Little SaviourYou're wrong, my love; it's when I'm completely sober that I'd like to blow my brains out to make it stop. Delusion is little price to pay for life.
The Apathetic YouthHe's mad that this is as good as it gets. The big house, the good school, the nice neighbourhood. It's difficult for kids these days, in a way. The country's very prosperity had become a burden, a dead end. Everything works, doesn't it? At least if you're white and middleclass. So it must often seem to young people that they're not needed. So, in a sense, it's as if there's nothing more to do.
Except tear it apart.
100ThemesChallenge - LoveDespite what people may think, not all guys wants a stick thin barbie doll with a fake smile and dull eyes. I like girls who curve. Girls who when you put your arms around her, feel like they fit perfectly against your chest, not like you're hugging a stick. Homely girls. The ones that wear soft cotton shirts and sweaters, and have a warm smile and eyes you can get lost in. The ones that walk around with a smudge of flour or toothpaste or paint on their shirt all day because they haven't noticed or just don't care. The ones whose apple-vanilla smell you could recognise from across the room, but still never becomes mundane. The ones who, when you curl up with her, no matter where you may be, it feels like Home.
How to Forget.I think the high is setting in
Because the lights aren't any dimmer
But I can't see you.
My eardrums are still in tact
But I can't hear you.
And I'm in no state to judge my mentality,
But I can at least hope that I'm not going insane.
The dumbing down of loveface stained, just as well as the heart
things have been turning out all wrong
leaving the lover alone without love
under the knife
"remove my heart! i don't want it without him!"
ardor, slipped away at the seams
all when you thought that your love
was the center of all that ever meant anything
choking on the instant escape
that he left you
you are lost.
your limbs, jello, giving way
to the weight that's heavy in your heart
collapsing your vocal cords so you
no longer have to speak what
Death.It took some time
To convince myself
That you don't exist.
The sadness that secretly consumed you.
Everything that made you,
The fear in your eyes,
The cuts on your body,
Hands clenched, gasping for air while
The drugs soared through your veins;
All of that was real?
The smile that could span miles,
The glazed eyes that told so many stories,
The creative mind that once captivated the world
And all that's left are the memories
That torture, consume and, on occasion,
Bring joy to my mind.
It's all surreal,
But I'm beginning to believe it's true.
You're forever in my memory;
But I've come to accept the fact
That you don't exist.
little piece of your heartshiver and shake
quiver and quake
sometimes i wonder when i will ever wake
eyes wide open to the naked blue abyss
in which i desired to drown all the tears and fears
i have gathered among the years i have spent
trying to remember why i continued breathing
in and out the toxins of unrequited emotions
you can place a little piece of your heart into everyone's pockets
but that sliver of sentiment never means anything... at least from you anyways
peel back your forgotten flesh to reveal the memories you buried in your stolen mind
hopelessly ready for a perpetual state of dreams where He loves you
and you don't even know whom He is yet
fever for the fake
no antidote for the ache
It's all over us.In the end it's nothing, just another flaw to judge you by when you die. It's like the devil is taking tallies of the things you felt and did and is plotting them against you in your final resting hour.
Some enjoy living in the shadows.. under that ever pouring gray sky. Deeper and deeper into the chaos and darkness.. until we get so caught up in hurting, that all that's left of us is cold flesh and empty eyes.
Friend. I've see this look before, so clearly in the mirror. I can't say I didn't enjoy the pain. But oh those moments when gray was my favorite color.. I couldn't help but to add some red for dramatics.
Maybe it's the artist in me, couldn't stop the perfect angle, couldn't stop the madness inside from boiling over. Still plotting against the raging twisted emotions inside.
Say friend, is this the final hour? When I can't stop to see you trying to smile.. when I can't stop to try and smile back? What time is this that disillusions and mist implore and raging winds cast us ashore
cup of coffee Your coat is draining in water and your curly thick black locks are powdered with yet undissolved snowflakes. That coat, that hideous coat. I'd told you before how much I hated it.
For some hidden reason she looks lovely on you today. She dresses your body like an armor of some kind of bohemian knight. Just like I used to when I would spoon you in your sleep, keeping you warm and safe from the vicious dark until the dawn would break.
She must be your new mistress, desperately trying to hide your murderer body from the stains of blood on your shirt when you staggered my soul with those six little words:"I don't love you any more".
Your dumb look kind of upsets me. It's just like you have thought I would cling to your neck and angrily kiss you for a last time, begging in my guts that I will sip your soul out of that hollow cage of yours you call bo
Beseeching ReposeOh! Chaotic splendor, stop toying with my mind
Sleep will not come, and I cannot unwind
I'm restless and diaphanous in this realm
Caught between space and time, overwhelm
Now clutched by the hands of daylight walking
On this Earth by nights eyes been stalking
Sunrise and sunset, sunrise and sunset
Visions of ghosts and lucid beings beget
I'm far from lively and further from rest
It's sleep I chase, I've now confessed
Cast and burning I'm desperately astray
Suspend my consciousness in dreams fly away
I beseech you Nyx, enchant me with your charm
Into the night I'll go, effortlessly and without harm
I love you anywayYou don't have to agree with me,
Behave according to my plans,
Share with me same dreams and aims.
You don't need to smile,
When you don't want.
When you are frustrated, sad or hesitant,
When you make mistakes,
Try new things and fail at them.
I LOVE YOU ANYWAY.
You don't have to be perfect,
Nor to get in touch with perfection.
I want you to be a human,
And to love you with all your
"fors and againsts".
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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