Just getting it off my chest I guess.
What once was is was never should be.
I can't find myself in the self adulating chronicle of fear that
documents my every move.
What had me once stolen away from the people returns to shed
everlasting darkness on a creature that longs for the light.
What happened? What went wrong? Not a fiber of my being should hold
the vengance that now wrecks upon my soul.
Insomnia, nausea, pain in my heart. My head is screaming, calling reprieve to a god
that will not hear his cries.
Don't look at me, you cannot understand the bellowing anger that lurks beneath this
gentle visage. It's coming to a close, what is I'm not sure, but I still pray to the
immortal fool that captivates my stringed lust filled core.
What is love? I feel it, I know it, I long for it. I have it, I hold it, I treasure it,
yet it is all for a soul that given circumstance would not be here with I.
I'd cradle your head for a long time-bound night, and forever would we gaze upon
the ruins of man yet
I am lost all the same. I send candies and love songs through a courier of innocence
but while contemplating the effervescent love that is bridled not by shame.
I still cast wavering glances toward succubi unappealing, creatures tasteless and inherently appalling that beckon me forth.
How can you love yet deny yet recourse? How can you allocate your emotions
the most important ones of all
yet still a moment in next give them away to a person you would not step forward
This troubled mind.
All of the mistakes I've made, haunting, crawling, terrorizing, prodding, poking,
maliciously affronting the place I'd nay call refuge.
The escape, the only escape, is one of sacrifice. Do I take my own life to free myself
of the troubles of a poor weak and mortal man? Do I end my fabricated trial in
consciousness because of this frustrating annoyance that should not have such a
hold on my thoughts?
For what purpose am I 'sad', what purpose am I 'angry', for what purpose do I drive
myself forward into an abysmal depression that is unwarranted save this odd
eroticism to masochistically violate my own morals?
Perhaps there is more than the obvious answer, the one that lays at the hole of a
cool metal heater.
Yet, while I might not answer any questions, one determination is set.
I am sad.