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[27 Mar 2005|02:48am] |
This may be the best I'll ever be, a broken boy with his fucking arms torn off. An erector set that never had the screws or bolts or means to be put together, thank you. I appreciate your concern (or lack there of). Your words were sharp, but not as sharp as your tongue, and it cut me down. The feeling of your words piercing my proverbial skin was alluring, or maybe I'm just lying. I hope you understand that none of this means anything, you were never real. And the fragments can't be put together, you made sure of that, you and your hammer, an extension of your passion to destroy. Cut, smash, break, repair, cut smash break repair, cutsmashbreakrepair. You cut out the bullshit and didn't bother crossing the i's or dotting the t's, or maybe it was the other way around. Language isn't anything these days, and twenty six characters isn't nearly enough to piece together the words to explain the damage we've caused. We started Armageddon on a small scale that night, we stole the sun and locked it in a box in my hands. We knew they'd never find it. They walked around blind and helpless while we stayed in the light, surveying the damage done, oh what an insult to injury. Now look at what we've done, look at what we've fucking done. Some things bare repeating or maybe I just enjoy the thought of being redundant, redundant redundant redundant redundant, oh the irony, right? Peeling off our skin, you looked so lovely from the inside, but I guess looks can be deceiving, oh the things that should be said out loud. I'm losing it aren't I? Jumping from one thing to the next, I'm no acrobat, I can barely stand straight as it is. Am I making any sense? Sometimes I don't think so. I'm like viper that can only bite it's tongue, because I feel like everything I say poisons me more and more. And I just swallow it all, I can feel it in me now, tearing me apart from the inside out, or maybe the outside in, but that doesn't work much these days. Every sight is like a snapshot, freeze framed at the worst part of the rest of my days, a broken mirror and bloody foot steps. You always said talking to me was like walking on egg shells, but I think it was more like broken glass, because one of us always got hurt. And now your words are on delay, your mouth moves but I don't hear what you say until days later. You make me feel like I'm underwater. Like I'm suffocating. Hearing you speak is worse than death, because at least death only happens once, but your words are endless, like a book that never ends, and every time I think I'm done and I close it a thousand more pages appear, each one more destructive than the next. You drew up the blue prints for my demise, I can't thank you enough for that, so you just keep saying those pretty words and I'll keep staring lidless at the sun, because you put it in my hands.
-This is about no one and everyone all at the same time. Think about it, and please, get the wrong idea, I have faith in you.-
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[28 Jan 2005|02:40pm] |
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I can not stop the spinning scenery, even with clenched eye lids and an open mind. Nothing is controlled but nothing is free. I lay buried underneath the bluest sky and yet, for an instant it almost looks like something else. Blades of grass sprouting from every direction, pressing upwards hoping for a taste of something better; they never get it. I now understand that I am the grass, all the same I stretch, and perhaps one day I'll fool myself enough to believe that the things I want are the things I already have, but I'm not holding my breath. The clouds begin to circulate in robotic fashion and I have to wonder, is the bigger picture really just a hoax? What if all I'm destined to do is remain where my roots are? Photosynthesis is nice, but it always leaves me feeling empty and unfulfilled. If the trees could talk they'd scream, scream for the life of them because they could never understand what it's like to understand. Then again, I've never had someone carve "T & M 4ever" into my chest, so perhaps this is all a biased opinion. I just wish that for once, when i tried to rub the burning out of my eyes, that it would go away. The scenery shifts and the sky dissappears. Where have I been moved, i see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. I imagine that death is something like this. I feel like i'm suffocating. I can't find the air, but then again, i may not even be looking, certain things have lost their luster. That sparkle in her eyes is gone, i used to see it all the time, blinding it was but i could never look away, and I never wanted it to end, but it did. Something happened and it either faded or exploded, either way something beautiful was destroyed. I'll focus the lenses again though, and everything will become clearer with time, it always does right? I'm free again though, limb to limb and mind to heart, I'm free. I stand now, and attempt to take in my surroundings, but I feel nothing, which makes me wonder if I've achieved nothing more than becoming obsolete, have I been disposed of. I want nothing more than to show them, to show you I'm so much more than obsolete. I'm ugly on the outside but if I tore off my skin, tore out my eyes and gave you my heart, not my metaphoric heart, but my real, beating, bloody, pulse keeping heart, maybe then you'd understand sacrifice. I want to peel back my covering, show you that I'm not made of wires. I'm not fake, I promise, I'm just not as real as I could be, but I'm trying. I count rotations of nearby ceiling fans to pass the time as I sink my nails into my arm and bite my lip because I know you aren't coming back. I tried to follow you, stride by stride I wanted nothing more. I remember the last time you touched me, your skin felt so cold against mine, so dead and empty, like the very life had been sucked out of you, and for all I know it had been, but by what or whom I'm not sure.. I just wanted to breathe it back into you, I don't need these human things. I could give you my breathe. I could reach into my chest and pull out my lungs for you if it'd make you understand how important things can be to someone or something. Reminiscing never got me anywhere though, look at me now, broken and bloody lying in an empty, broken down room. I think this is the end of our days, you always said they'd come in numbers and now they have, but I still don't know who they are, and somehow I doubt I ever will. I feel like a heroin addict, but I don't have my syringe, because you're gone, and you're the only thing that's every stuck me. And now I look out my window, the satellites have fallen, and it's true, the sky does look more beautiful aflame.. if only you could see it.. or maybe you can, wherever you are. I watched you walk away, and I said nothing, but maybe it's because there was nothing to say. I wanted to tell you a lot of things that day.. but none of them came to mind at the time, because maybe I was trying to block them all out, or maybe it's just because it was easier for me to watch you walk away than to tell you that I need you here more than I've ever needed anything. More than I've needed breath, or water, or even touch, as long as I could feel you with me. But I didn't say anything, I tied my tongue in knots and swallowed it, I never wanted to speak again. Ashes fall like snowflakes, and the sight is almost comforting, to know we, the human race and everything around is doomed, I almost feel connected with the world, with you; I just wonder when it will all be over. Carving symbols that I've seen in my dreams, carving them into my skin. I wanted to draw a map to somewhere, but I can't read myself anymore. All the lines ran together and now there's nothing left. You were the only one who could ever read me anyway. And now I lay in the middle of this rundown place, glass blanketing the floor, looking at my hands and wondering why they bleed and bruise. I broke the mirrors, did I forget to tell you? My reflection disappeared, so I smashed them all, what's the point in looking at myself if I can't really see me. So I broke them, and still felt nothing, so I lay here and now, I'm stuck in the floor. I feel like I'm sinking, and suddenly I'm underwater, I must have dozed off. Everything is submerged, like me, but I'm not where I was, thank God. I can't breathe here, but that's okay, I know everything will be over soon. I open my mouth and let the water fill me, fill my lungs, as I drift to sleep and sink to the bottom of this abyss. Maybe I'll see you soon, but who knows if you're like me, I don't know anything anymore. All I know is that the day the sparkle left your eyes, and you said "goodbye" for the last time and I knew you meant it, every inch of me was destroyed, and maybe you couldn't tell, or maybe I just didn't let you, but I fell apart.. I'm sorry for all of this and I'm sorry for what I've done. The sun is gone now and I can barely keep my eyes open, but it's not cold anymore.. finally it's not cold anymore..
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[16 Jan 2005|02:48pm] |
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Sigur Ros - ( ) |
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I decided to make this based on a number of different things, but mostly just because i'm getting rather sick of the whole "xanga" experience. I want to have a place where I can come and vent my insides out to no end and not have to stop and think for a single second "who is reading this?". I think it's only fair. I'm feeling rather uninspired right now though, so honestly I can't really say much, i'm posting right now just for the sake of being able to say that I actually started my livejournal and have intent to continue updating whenever I deem it necessary, which may or may not be often.
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