FinNo matter what I do or say or how many times I try to smile...I will always go back to feeling miserable...Maybe I was always meant to suffer...Maybe I will always cry and feel empty...I have nothing left to smile about...I lost everything...My relationships...My brother...My art skills...My will to be happy...Say goodbye to my happy self...
Truth We FaceI am not afraid to admit everything I have been through.Yes, I do still feel some of the pain.That is life and experience.It means I am growing up.We do not stay young forever.We have to face the harsh truths in life...Regardless of how painful.
Note To EveryoneIt may be at times hard to forget...But sometimes some people are just not meant to be in your life.Thus they leave you.But do not fret because one day you will find the right people who love and care for you.They will have your back and support you.They will not leave you or be jealous of you.Sometimes we have to face being treated badly in order to understand who is truly there for us.One day we will find those people.The ones meant for us.You will overcome the pain and heartache of the betray that took place.Your hearts will mend and heal.We will be complete.We will find the true treasure in life.Our true friends and companions...
xxxxxI care to much up everything.I care to much about everyone.I am way too nice and generous.Maybe I should just stop.Become a cold heartless person.All I ever do is get betrayed and let down anyway.
Sensitive Fragile DelicateMy emotions are as sensitive as a baby's skin.My feelings as fragile as a butterfliy's wings.My heart as delicate as a pearl in a clam.
Maybe I Just Get In Everyone's WayFeels like no one can handle me anymore.I feel like being locked away.Hidden from everyone's sight.I'm just the obstacle the stands in the way of others.Maybe I just get in everyone's way...I make others miserable when I do not realize it.I feel down without even knowing why.I feel like I have no purpose.So why I wonder...Why do I even bother...
Jump Off A Cliff...and fly away.Let the love in life carry you away.
FallingFalling through the ice.Drifting in the cold.Dark water.Looking up with hopeful eyes.At the distant light.No one comes.No one hears me.Close my eyes.Imagine the peace I never had.Forget about it all.Just fall to the floor of the lake.No one will find me.No one will ever hear me.No one will remember me...I am finally free of it all...
MusicI like the way listening to music makes me feel.I feel free from all the worry and pain...At least for a short little while I feel liberated...
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
PhoenixI won't be your phoenix,your death wishof maudlin wordsstretched across this failing light.I will not wearnew wings for youthat crimson youwere born with -a mother's final wishto keep out the winterand weep.But I will wait,the flaw and beautyof your youthpainted across your palmsas you hold upthe moon to meet me.
We all are beautiful!We all are beautiful!The problem is on our eyes!
RidaYou said your namewas Rita with a "d"and let me blundermy way through you.You said I had charm(and finesse was for amateurs)I liked how you were a ladder,how you could speakin any accent you wanted;you liked when Idid not change the sheetsor tie my hair back,You had droppedout of art schoolin Alabamawhere your fatherstill thought you were a virgin,and I was bussing tableson St. Charles.We lived all that summerin one roomand a kitchen.You would fry plantainsand we would wash them downwith purple haze,watching the musicianssilhouette their soulsagainst the sky.On weekendsyou would tell fortunesin Jackson Squareand men would payjust to watch your copper hairspill out their futureacross the cards.The city had neverseemed so cleanso fragrant with rainand the daze of hibiscusrioting in the courtyardfollowed us in our sleep.But autumn came too soon,hooded in chill -its mood ugly and resentful.I watched you deadhead someone's rosesin the yard -know
Authorshipyou’re the authorof this story - and yetinsist on playingthe role of a foilwhen you couldrewrite the pagesas you wish.
Solemn TimbreMy heart is the rotten,exposed-beam,roof-ripped-off carcassof an ark;that once protected,nurtured, savedbut now is a mererelic,a remnant,of when there was hopeof things gettingbetter.
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead. It isn’t true. It’s said the stench of hell infects the earthand healths of heated blood are downed. But Hamlet lied. The dead know nothing, the living less. There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flameAnd eagles, turning, turn to fireAsh cold, alone I lieAnd think of you.
spaceshiptwoWhat's leftafter the explosionare these suns,a faint projectionfrom an unreachable darkness,flickering.And then everything is simultaneous;the entangled mess,the crowds.*And maybe it's all about editing and being edited-The pilot painted across a desert,A desert painted across the pilot.*Or the holographic drift, a surface reflection-The expanse outside echoed inward,Jagged orange treelines over the firefly black like someone holding onto a woman(or the memory of a woman).*Or maybe just the T.V. relayas I struggle to sleep,the newscasterfrom both dimensionsglowing and whispering:The horses of your apocalypse/the apocalypse of your horses.
True Fact #113I really despise copycats. I really do. There is not a single word alone that can possibly express how much it annoys the living hell out of me. It's not cute or adorable or inspiring. It is hella annoying.