You don’t like these words. My thoughts. They’re vulgar, right? Beyond honesty. The only section of myself I use to exhibit true feelings I never even knew existed. Aside from my drawings though. They are difficult to interpret. I like them better that way though. A little bit twisted. Funny thing about words though, they can be manipulated. So do I mean what I say because no one can tell but myself. Whatever I place here you’ll take as the truth. Or are they lies. I guess you will never know. So for now I’ll just write. Analyze it. Over analyze it. Figure it out yet? I’m keeping it a secret. Don’t say it. It’s not yours to take any longer.
I just need to sit here and get this out. I’m like that television show where they take a soda bottle and they kept compressing more and more and more air into until the moment where it was about to explode and the screen goes black. No sound. And at that moment the world seems hollow. That split second where there is a simplistic nothing. A simple, extraordinary nothing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3OJTZVKZx8
Overwhelm me with vibrations in my eardrum of a gentle piano lullaby. Bring me the calm to the storm
sometimes people have something you need to say but can't because they can’t get the words right. Or they just won’t come out. Or they feel scared, stupid, frustrated, confused, a rush of emotions “so some of us will never be able to say what we're thinking or what we want other people to know we're thinking so we'll never get the chance to make things right again ever.”
Did you watch the sunset today? It was beautiful. It’s outside my window past the wire screen, and shades acting as a blockade. In the formation of jail bars. Perfectly vertical, 90 degrees of the horizon outside. And you look past that and see where the blue meets the sunset. It meets the tangerine colors and fresh yellows. It’s funny, you think that moment would appear to be a green but instead it’s a pure white. Like the virgin, pure white snow melting off of the grass that holds it up. Making it dirty and impure again. (Ha.) I can’t write this any longer
“Humpty dumpty sat on a wall; Humpty dumpty had a great fall. All the King's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again!” Humpty dumty, did someone kick you off of you’re high hoarse? Someone push you off of your pedestal. Well get back up again. Or was it took much of a tragedy. Sympathy; Tyranny: all in the same you abused all the power you were given, humpty. It’s time to take it back, Looks like you were broken Humpty dumpty. We tried to help you, the king and I. and now you’re spilling from the inside out. I wonder if the king and I fell, would you humpty come to try and put us back together? Or were you too fragile. Ha. Tyranny. No excuses. Get yourself some new shoes humpty, how ‘bout trying on mine. Where were you when I fell? Where were you, where were you?
”As your gentle caress helps me forget”
I lay in your sweet serenity, sweet tranquility. The false comfort of your ever protection. Tenderness surrounds every inch of me. Intertwined with your affection and warm skin. I take an elongated minute to look upward through your clouded eyes. And I counted the lines on your face near your foggy translucent corneas. I painted your walls black that day. A color you found difficult to paint over. It was all my intentions. On the stone bitter walls I wrote a poem. It was about a “tormented essence.” Knotted it together with the grey reflection of a rosebush. The flowers bled red on your fingers from when you touched it. Your sapphire veins were exploited at the wrists. The razor tainted that beautiful blue shade; scarlet. The sapphire faded, I have yet to face that color. I’ve learn to never look directly into those eyes ever again.
so don't get me wrong. try not to think too much about the things I write. Due to my metaphors it may be easily misinterpreted. But these words are not back and white. They all have a far deeper meaning. Try not to think as much as I do. It’s a hazard. You shouldn’t trust people, but try to trust me on this. --The more you think the more complicated it gets.-- I would never wish that on anyone.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
If you took a glimpse inside my eyes,
you’d see far beyond visuals.
it's like I’m trapped beyond my corneas. And clawing my way out. I get no where. I choose to use my form of expression by art. I choose metaphors and similes. I choose color and I choose black and white. I choose that grey area in-between. The veins in my eyes are my bloody fingers trying to tear who the real me is out of this masquerade. This illusion. My mask of flesh and bone. Another pretty face enclosed and caked on with cosmetics. I draw who I want to look like with a black pencil and some dust. Iris. A vantage point into my soul. Twists and turns. Pulling and tugging, holding up the strings to my heart. Far more then sensitive. The place I allow you to see my soul, my deepest parts from the contrary. Inside out. Strokes of the smoothest bristles of my paintbrush. The creator. Creating and building. Designing graphing out my next move without any previous ideas. Spontaneous. That is what I want you to see when you look into my irises. I want you to be lost. I’ll find you. See threw my pretense. My pupils are the blackest of holes. Burn those holes into your bones. Because “everything is in order in a black hole” that’s what they tell me. And I’ll shudder. Long curling pulse less flaws of tresses keep the outside world out. I blink because my eyes are the most vulnerable portion or myself. My eyes aren’t visuals. They can’t perceive or distinguish. Eyes are blind. They are not superficial. They are not here. I’ll close my eyes and hide them. I’m afraid of what my eyes reveal. It’s a place cameras are enable to capture. Humans are unable to envision. No words. No pictures. Nothing. A vague nothing but profound unfathomable vast extraordinary life. Weary hype. The only paranormal human feature located on and beyond body. Blinking, burying our fears. It’s what the scientist professors coincidently forget to leave out. The non-explainable.
You are a line I’m at the border of
you’d see far beyond visuals.
it's like I’m trapped beyond my corneas. And clawing my way out. I get no where. I choose to use my form of expression by art. I choose metaphors and similes. I choose color and I choose black and white. I choose that grey area in-between. The veins in my eyes are my bloody fingers trying to tear who the real me is out of this masquerade. This illusion. My mask of flesh and bone. Another pretty face enclosed and caked on with cosmetics. I draw who I want to look like with a black pencil and some dust. Iris. A vantage point into my soul. Twists and turns. Pulling and tugging, holding up the strings to my heart. Far more then sensitive. The place I allow you to see my soul, my deepest parts from the contrary. Inside out. Strokes of the smoothest bristles of my paintbrush. The creator. Creating and building. Designing graphing out my next move without any previous ideas. Spontaneous. That is what I want you to see when you look into my irises. I want you to be lost. I’ll find you. See threw my pretense. My pupils are the blackest of holes. Burn those holes into your bones. Because “everything is in order in a black hole” that’s what they tell me. And I’ll shudder. Long curling pulse less flaws of tresses keep the outside world out. I blink because my eyes are the most vulnerable portion or myself. My eyes aren’t visuals. They can’t perceive or distinguish. Eyes are blind. They are not superficial. They are not here. I’ll close my eyes and hide them. I’m afraid of what my eyes reveal. It’s a place cameras are enable to capture. Humans are unable to envision. No words. No pictures. Nothing. A vague nothing but profound unfathomable vast extraordinary life. Weary hype. The only paranormal human feature located on and beyond body. Blinking, burying our fears. It’s what the scientist professors coincidently forget to leave out. The non-explainable.
You are a line I’m at the border of
----------------------------------
crossing.
One foot on a single surface, the other balance on the other. I’m stuck straddling a banned region I should be shying away from. I should be running away from you but you have a burden.. Jammed. Wedged. into my heart. A heaviness is pulling my heart down. Stronger then any gravitational pull. I can sense it deep within me. Right now. At this very instant. You are so far. 397.65 miles away. But you won’t go away. You won’t leave. Even when you stagger away for that moment and you depart, you are never in truth gone.. I have screamed and begged using violent, vicious words. You hold me down, yet you can’t keep me grounded. You pull me beneath any foundation any ground. You crush me below the earth. The land soil and floor. You knocked me down. You drown me higher then the utmost height possible to drift. Yet you leave me the lowest depth I’ve ever been. Let me know when this starts making sense.
"Addiction is a decision. An individual wants something, whatever that something is, and makes a decision to get it. Once they have it, they make a decision to take it. If they take it too often, that process of decision making gets out of control, and if it gets far out of control, it becomes an addiction. At that point the decision is a difficult one to make, but it is still a decision.” I’m out of control.
"Addiction is a decision. An individual wants something, whatever that something is, and makes a decision to get it. Once they have it, they make a decision to take it. If they take it too often, that process of decision making gets out of control, and if it gets far out of control, it becomes an addiction. At that point the decision is a difficult one to make, but it is still a decision.” I’m out of control.
I trust you. I trust you with every single part of me; Aside, Aside from my
heart.
I am an aimless wonderer. I’m a voyager. A traveler. I will travel the battered, twisted paths around your heart. Trying to gather the wisdom to find my way in. I’m looking for answers that are here. Will you reveal them, or will they be kept from me? I’m trusting you. I’m here. I past the point of vulnerable far more then a long time ago. I’ve been beaten and battered to you. You don’t realize. These bruises are from you. Someone’s caused you pain, so you gave it right back to me. You treated me the way you have been treated. You learned to cope; you may have learned to move on. But I haven’t. I’m still here, I hope you notice. I hope you really do care. I hope in some way, shape or form... I hope I truly do matter to you. It’s not something you can just tell me. Show me. Make this different then anything you’ve ever done. Prove them, prove yourself, me wrong. “Show me what I’m looking for.” (Carolina Liar)
I feel like I’m suffocating and I want to scream for air but someone has sewn my vocal cords together in a tangled mess. I’m a guinea pig, your experiment. You want to see how long I could . last living underwater with nothing but pretty words. So give me your Sunday school answer, it’s not okay this time. I’m sick. I’m dying slowly, heart wrenching, painfully. You burn me right to my bones. Sun may penetrate my protective layer of skin but you penetrate my soul. So you’re killing me, just leave me go.
Bring me numbness. Take away my thoughts and I will become a lifeless doll. I drown in my thoughts. So you want control? Here you go. I don’t want it. I don’t want the right to myself anymore. Take my body; and take my mind. I will be your toy. Clone me and you all can control me. I’m in a morbid state of mind. I don’t want to ever think again ever again. It only causes me a massive disarray. So take it, all of it is yours. I am now a motionless, insensitive object. That’s all I wish I was.
I need to stop thinking.
Surrender my control. Surrender your soul. Turn this black hole. Destroy all these pieces as a hole. Take out my heart with a fishing pole.
This deserves a drum roll. Resister and enrolls. This heart is full of bullet holes
Don’t leave me this vulnerable.
We’re all looking for something to make sense; We’re looking for answers.
We’re looking for something.
Some of you are looking for love; Some question whether love is real
Some just want some ass; Some of us just want to have fun
Some of us just don’t know what we want.
(idk what I want so don’t ask me cause I’m still trying to figure it out; taylorswift)
Show me what I’m looking for (Carolinaliar)
Cannonball. Cold Water. 9 Crimes
by Damien Rice
Makes me cry.
Love?
What is love?
I’m questioning existence.
Explain it to me.
I don’t know if I believe in love. I think I find that easier to type then say because they don’t understand. Love. Love is too complicated. It’s too complicated to be put down in writing like this. These are just words. Lines and curves deciphered as letters, words, sentences. But what does it mean? Love is not a word. Stop using it as a word. I. Love. You. I love you is bullshit. Words don’t mean anything. Words are lies. I could say anything in this, what does it mean? What is it’s feeling? Words don’t have feeling. Words are cold; they are black and white, sharp piercing and cold. And dictionaries can’t always define. You think words can describe love? Well you’re wrong. I don’t think I know what love is but I don’t think I could ever tell you what it is. It’s a personal interpretation. Not pretty little words. Love in the form of a word is cliché. I hate clichés. I mean how do you even know what it is? Children are taught to love their families and parents since they were born. Since we can all remember. Do you have to be told you’re loved? Do you have to be taught love? Think about it. Is love not being able to live without a person? If you love you’re parents but they pass on. They die. You live. Does that mean you didn’t love them? You adapt. You learn to move on and accept things. Human beings are very adapting to their environment. Not like a camelien or reptile, it’s not easy. It’s never simple. But if you move on, how do you ever know what love is or was? This isn’t coming out right. Uuuuuuuuggggh. “love is a hoax so forget anything that you’ve ever heard” (the tide; the spill canvas) this is coming out all wrong. What I’m saying is I don’t know what it is, so can I believe in it? I don’t believe in it. We all adapt to where ever we are with whoever were with. We can “learn” to love again. And see, I don’t believe you can love more then one. You care about people, love didn’t assets. You CANT love multiple people because if you did would you cheat on them for the other? No. you see, there is something going on inside and if you can’t pick one person. It’s because you don’t “love” any one of them. Love is unconditional no matter what that person does it doesn’t mean you can stop loving them and love another more. What the hell. Love does not make sense. But then again I don’t think it’s supposed to. Love doesn’t have rules but it doesn’t mean you can use love as an excuse. Love doesn’t have fucking excuses. And you can’t use it as an excuse. People abuse love, use it as their reasoning but that’s just it! Love is perfectly imperfect. It’s both at the same time. Love is not suppose to be “wrong.” It isn’t. It could never be but then again it doesn’t mean all smiles and rainbows. It means strength and heart and sometimes tears. I guess it means an always forgiving blame. A passionate obsession. Not to be confused with lust. It’s a completely didn’t ache for not a persons body but for their soul. For their mind and thoughts. For the terrible and the repulsive times. For the vilely most ideal moments. It’s about never being vulnerable again. It’s about infident shelter and comfort. Love is tears of bliss. I guess, maybe it’s an authentic actor. It’s real and fake, it’s evermore. I just figured something out. Love is everything. And that doesn’t describe its significance. Look up every word in the dictionary and I guess you’d find the definition. It’s nothing. It’s absolutely infident, Including nothing. So don’t underestimate it but just do me a favor. Stop mocking it. Love is not a joke. But then again it is. It is every letter, word, sentence written. Do not underestimate the power of EVERYTHING. Everything is everything. It is the despair of my loneliness and it’s a crowd full of people. It does not exist, it is not real. Because it is everything. The good and bad of everything. It’s all sides of a polygon. This doesn’t sound right. Love is not everything. Everything is overused. It is wrong. Words. Words are wrong. I can’t show you. The way I feel. So for now, I’ll say this. Love does not exist; do not listen to a word that they say. but remember what I told you before.. the good and the bad. Everything. No matter what I am telling you. It must be true. I make myself confused. Everything is powerful. Stop overestimating and cheat IT. Stop using IT as an excuse. Stop saying IT. IT isn’t true. IT is a lie. IT is not a word. IT is beyond feelings, IT is numb. Love, I do not believe in love.
I’m drowning in my thoughts; Drowning.
“Save me cause I could never float. Sinking” (save by the rocket summer)
This deserves a drum roll. Resister and enrolls. This heart is full of bullet holes
Don’t leave me this vulnerable.
We’re all looking for something to make sense; We’re looking for answers.
We’re looking for something.
Some of you are looking for love; Some question whether love is real
Some just want some ass; Some of us just want to have fun
Some of us just don’t know what we want.
(idk what I want so don’t ask me cause I’m still trying to figure it out; taylorswift)
Show me what I’m looking for (Carolinaliar)
Cannonball. Cold Water. 9 Crimes
by Damien Rice
Makes me cry.
Love?
What is love?
I’m questioning existence.
Explain it to me.
I don’t know if I believe in love. I think I find that easier to type then say because they don’t understand. Love. Love is too complicated. It’s too complicated to be put down in writing like this. These are just words. Lines and curves deciphered as letters, words, sentences. But what does it mean? Love is not a word. Stop using it as a word. I. Love. You. I love you is bullshit. Words don’t mean anything. Words are lies. I could say anything in this, what does it mean? What is it’s feeling? Words don’t have feeling. Words are cold; they are black and white, sharp piercing and cold. And dictionaries can’t always define. You think words can describe love? Well you’re wrong. I don’t think I know what love is but I don’t think I could ever tell you what it is. It’s a personal interpretation. Not pretty little words. Love in the form of a word is cliché. I hate clichés. I mean how do you even know what it is? Children are taught to love their families and parents since they were born. Since we can all remember. Do you have to be told you’re loved? Do you have to be taught love? Think about it. Is love not being able to live without a person? If you love you’re parents but they pass on. They die. You live. Does that mean you didn’t love them? You adapt. You learn to move on and accept things. Human beings are very adapting to their environment. Not like a camelien or reptile, it’s not easy. It’s never simple. But if you move on, how do you ever know what love is or was? This isn’t coming out right. Uuuuuuuuggggh. “love is a hoax so forget anything that you’ve ever heard” (the tide; the spill canvas) this is coming out all wrong. What I’m saying is I don’t know what it is, so can I believe in it? I don’t believe in it. We all adapt to where ever we are with whoever were with. We can “learn” to love again. And see, I don’t believe you can love more then one. You care about people, love didn’t assets. You CANT love multiple people because if you did would you cheat on them for the other? No. you see, there is something going on inside and if you can’t pick one person. It’s because you don’t “love” any one of them. Love is unconditional no matter what that person does it doesn’t mean you can stop loving them and love another more. What the hell. Love does not make sense. But then again I don’t think it’s supposed to. Love doesn’t have rules but it doesn’t mean you can use love as an excuse. Love doesn’t have fucking excuses. And you can’t use it as an excuse. People abuse love, use it as their reasoning but that’s just it! Love is perfectly imperfect. It’s both at the same time. Love is not suppose to be “wrong.” It isn’t. It could never be but then again it doesn’t mean all smiles and rainbows. It means strength and heart and sometimes tears. I guess it means an always forgiving blame. A passionate obsession. Not to be confused with lust. It’s a completely didn’t ache for not a persons body but for their soul. For their mind and thoughts. For the terrible and the repulsive times. For the vilely most ideal moments. It’s about never being vulnerable again. It’s about infident shelter and comfort. Love is tears of bliss. I guess, maybe it’s an authentic actor. It’s real and fake, it’s evermore. I just figured something out. Love is everything. And that doesn’t describe its significance. Look up every word in the dictionary and I guess you’d find the definition. It’s nothing. It’s absolutely infident, Including nothing. So don’t underestimate it but just do me a favor. Stop mocking it. Love is not a joke. But then again it is. It is every letter, word, sentence written. Do not underestimate the power of EVERYTHING. Everything is everything. It is the despair of my loneliness and it’s a crowd full of people. It does not exist, it is not real. Because it is everything. The good and bad of everything. It’s all sides of a polygon. This doesn’t sound right. Love is not everything. Everything is overused. It is wrong. Words. Words are wrong. I can’t show you. The way I feel. So for now, I’ll say this. Love does not exist; do not listen to a word that they say. but remember what I told you before.. the good and the bad. Everything. No matter what I am telling you. It must be true. I make myself confused. Everything is powerful. Stop overestimating and cheat IT. Stop using IT as an excuse. Stop saying IT. IT isn’t true. IT is a lie. IT is not a word. IT is beyond feelings, IT is numb. Love, I do not believe in love.
I’m drowning in my thoughts; Drowning.
“Save me cause I could never float. Sinking” (save by the rocket summer)
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