Philosophy or stream of consciousnessCan I not partake of the fruit of life itself and live believing the lies that everyone else is meant to take whole heartedly and never question?
Is it philosophy or is it rampant rambling of random realities that, I remember, are not real, but rather representations of repressed emotion?
With open eyes I belittle my own beliefs, believing that the belly of the beast, which I am meant brutally to slay, is brought upon us from behind. It is beneath benevolence. Or is it above?
Not quite intentionally, I inspire myself with inquisitions about the inherently invented world, in which this individual race places itself on a pedestal of inexplicable power.
It is a pedestal that prevents the pretentious people from assessing honestly their predisposed reign of power.
I am meant to slay that malevolent creature which, with malice, made its way into the marvelous and makeshift, meaningless hearts of meaningful people.
The majority of them pretending merry, and misinterpreting the meaning meant
The Porcelain DollIt was a foreign feeling. She had struggled all her life for something she couldn't quite name. Words seldom failed her, except in the instance of explaining herself. She didn't understand herself. Sometimes she thought she never would- but, now, that's a concept she was comfortable with. Comfort- maybe that's what she was looking for, or security, or self worth. In any case, now she had what she had so long yearned for; at least she was on her way. Her story isn't special. It isn't any more broken or heart-warming or unique than any human being on this earth. She's simply human.
Maybe we should start with the un-comfort. It's still hard to put into words- the person Sami used to be. Not that she was all that complicated, but that she was hurt. She needed, but she couldn't tell you what. She wanted but she couldn't tell you why. She had a huge family that loved her. They all wanted what was best for her. They doted over her, and praised her. It wasn't enough. They treated her like a po
A simple touchA simple touch, skin on skin,
Takes a taste for a second of freedom.
Hearts intermingled embraced hoping for eternity.
Giving in to long awaited pleasures,
Taking chances for risks dreamt of
For ages. Withheld emotions set lose
Of their own accord,
Fleshes to meet have ached so long,
So long they trembled.
Electric and static between,
Overcoming distance both of them anxious.
This that they have wished for
So long, wondered.
Will it be what I have hoped,
Yes, no question.
Think no more, together at last.
Giving in to chances for risks dreamt of
Feel, simply feel.
The Title Is A MysteryYesterday, I doubted
Today, I just don't know
Tomorrow determines everything
But today, it seems to glow.
A week ago I cried,
Clueless of the world,
Wondering what confusing life
Into which I had been hurled.
A month ago was different,
Sad and full of stress,
Each day from school to home I'd go
And for hours I would rest.
At night when I would wake again,
I'd gaze up at the moon,
With a tears, I'd wish again,
That the light would shine through soon.
Yesterday, I doubted,
And today I just don't know,
Tomorrow, I'll know everything
But today just seems to glow.
DimitriWander through the trees,
Stare up at the pale blue sky,
Black branches out like claws.
Find you sitting, crying no tears,
Staring into nothing,
With a silver blade sliding
Across the smooth, pale skin
Of your arm.
Golden eyes wide but unseeing
As the blade cuts.
Blood drips slow but steady
Onto your old striped shirt
And I watch without words
As it seeps in- another stain of pain.
You've returned to your old ways
Your wicked, Dark ways of
Skin torn eyes unmoving and a
Look of pain and terror frozen on
Your sculpted face.
Your wings gone, and you'll no longer
You'll not be one of us again.
You've killed too many
Broken us all.
You were our downfall.
So be lost, keep cutting.
You'll not return to us again.
Heaven closes its gates to you
And we keep your wings locked away.