Cold and Sharp
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Tired Love
They were pulling her away from her lover,
Whom she shared a bed with every night.
“You can’t! He means too much to me!”
She said while struggling to put up a fight.
Loud noises and people coming
To pull her lover away.
All the while, she’s struggling
To make her lover stay.
Finally, she gives up;
And for this, she starts to weep.
They see how sincere her love is
So they let her go back to sleep
-coldnsteel
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Friday, July 16, 2004
my world, not the real one
The world that I live in every-day is not the 'real one'
The one that has a past and a future exists only when I let it. And so as things, the big things, happen I don't much mind because that's not my story at the time. that's my story when either I let it happen and I get around to thinking about it, or when I simply can not deny it anymore.
I'm not sure yet weather this is a good or a bad thing...To deal by simply not dealing at all.
I figure in the future I will need some serious physiological help, but in the mean time I am a functioning member of society. Which is nice I guess.
unfortunately it means that I can't really empathise with those around me, as they live their lives in the moment. They feel in the moment. And as much as I can be a contributor to their story and they are to mine I do not see the reason for urgency as they do. I do not see the problems as they do. It seems more like melodrama then the drama in my own life. Because it always seems more serious as you go through it then when you look back on it or when someone looks into the situation.
This pattern of human behavior never ceases to amaze me. I hope that I will continue to be amazed by it in the future, if not that means my past and now present have caught up with me.
And I loose.
Friday, July 09, 2004
Heart shaped box
I got a letter from my mother.
First one in over a year and a half.
nicely done mummsy's
Funny to me...she set a picture, guess she figured I might have forgotten what she looked like.
In truth, I really had. It had taken me this long but I had forgotten her face, finally.
I don't know what to do with this. The letter is all about how time waits for no one and that she wants me to write her back. She doesn't want to die with us estranged I guess. She doesn't want that black mark on what she perceives an other wise ivory white soul.
I don't think I can write her back. And how awful does that make me? So cold hearted I won't even talk to my own mother.
But how can I throw myself in front of that train?
Throw myself back into that cycle?
Because I can see what would happen, if I pick that path; all hugs and apologies, as always, and then it would just start all over again. All of it.
No, that is not an option.
But even that decision done with not I must deal with all the shit she stirred up with that letter. Right when I could get a decent nights sleep too.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
A shadow of a tear
I may be the evil one, the one that did wrong...or at the very least did not do all that was right.
My guilt overwhelms me and I feel as if I might die, right now, then, again. Crucified on the wall, my soul hangs for you to see. If you ever wish to look. If you ever choose to see.
I don't know what I can do, to...fix this broken thing.
Sweet nose bleed ghost
statuesque white
bruise purple
Go to the window, sit down and watch the rain. Hear how it pitter patters on the leaves, tiny impacts that could kill you now. Venture outside if you dare, feel it rip you open and let your soul fly. This is life, and maybe it is just paper.
At these moments, the ones where I feel full and empty at the same time. Alone and crowded. I think on how...the world makes all the sense in the world and there for none. How life is fickle, and how I don't really value mine. I will stay here to watch the rain. Very few things are so beautiful that I have to catch my breath, but remember the world is in flux and therefore all of you are that thing. As the twilight glows on your skin I see heaven, the fire reflects in your eyes and I see hell.
Is that living? Life?
This?
Another realization; with out the sour the sweet just aint as sweet.
I feel sweet. But my finger tips spell sour for your soul.
what is all of this that I type into the void?
more of my thoughts and if they were on paper you would not really see them, they would be a jumble of words that make no real sense to you, only to me.
Look beside you, my soul is there, crucified. Don't believe me? Look harder. Unfocuse your eyes and let your soul see. Because its there, a piece of me for you to keep.
If you're not, please 
