In order to function in this world, one must slip away from it...
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September 15th, 2005
|10:18 pm - Inner Death|
what doth the demons brought to light.
Shedding gleam upon the world covered in night.
New and enticing, it dazzled the eyes,
Concealing the viewer from all its lies.
Who once were friends, now are foe.
What was we knew, now no one knows.
Vivid dreams are all that remain,
Remorseful memories that bring upon shame.
Why did it end so quickly?
How vengence sought its way so swiftly.
Angry, resentment and hatred grew.
In a moments rush, all became unglued.
The deceit emerged and all were in shame.
That world was over, end of the game.
The aftermath brought the cruelest of all,
As punishment saw everyone fall.
Bodies still functioning with a dead inner core,
The heart still beating with a dull roar.
Away from those that bring harm,
Remain in solitude, forever alarmed.
Losing it all in a moments breath,
Was it worth the trouble...
Was it worth the inner death?
Current Mood: amused
September 13th, 2005
"A diary of days on a road you won't recognize as unique. The next time you whiz past them, next year or next week or twenty years from now, they blend together and bleed into the same streak of hamburger joints and coffee shops and gas stations; the same exits and on-ramps surrounding each city same as the lesser approaches in lesser places; and all of us, an unwilling caravan of misfits hurling down the free roads of this country. We, the witnesses of varying states of decay, and of the sameness within,of each, the hollow dull ringing inside always first, and some towns,that's where they're at, still almost moving and thriving, as a group of citizens bustling and splitting with life, but as you look close; you see...
they are all dead on the inside."
September 12th, 2005
|04:38 pm - Denial|
You feel you're alone in your anger,
the hatred grows deep within your pores.
You scream at the laughing walls that surround you,
the sole victim in life's cruel prose.
You whine at things you cannot change,
You wonder why it is so.
You speak of vultures picking clean,
everything that made-up your soul.
Your tears fall and no one's around to hear them.
Why do you think that is so my dear?
Anyone that tries to get close,
get's pushed away by you and your fear.
Your fear is your beloved,
but he's loved more then just you.
It's his laughs you hear,
not the walls like you think you do.
He has you so twisted around his finger,
your every breath made by his say so.
The siren he is, he sings his song,
while you lap it up, every spoonful.
Poor little girl, wallowing in self-pity,
alone in a house so corroded by lies.
You'll never acknowledge his part in any of it.
You just choose to cry.
Current Mood: meh...