Skunk Anansie - Weak - Freewrite
Skunk Anansie - Weak (inspiration).
Lost in time I cant count the words
I said when I thought they went unheard
All of those harsh thoughts so unkind
cos I wanted you
And now I sit here Im all alone
So here sits a bloody mess, tears fly home
A circle of angels, deep in war
cos I wanted you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Deep as I am, Im no ones fool
Weak as I am
So what am I now - Im love last home
Im all of the soft words I once owned
If I opened my heart, thered be no space for air
cos I wanted you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Deep as I am, Im no ones fool
Weak as I am
In this tainted soul
In this weak young heart
Am I too much for you
In this tainted soul
In this weak young heart
Am I too much for you
In this tainted soul
In this weak young heart
Am I too much for you
Weak as I am
Weak as I am
Weak as I am
Weak as I am, am, am
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
A Masochistic Tendency
I don't think about it anymore.
It's within the stale confines of matter of fact descriptions;
Within the stifled small smiles;
The rolling of words over my tongue
Until they've lost meaning.
I don't feel anymore.
I think in adjectives
I think in rhymes that I've woken with at midnight
And scribble in to the silence.
I think in syntax and composed constructed illustrations
And twisted echoes manipulated in to prose.
You are my muse.
*
This evening, we discussed ourselves in depth, me and her.
I reiterated countless occasions,
Picked lines from poems and spoke in written word.
"Wow,
he really messed you up" she said.
Everything curls and creeps over my body again
When I think of the love I've known compared to her
And "If I opened my heart, there'd be no space for air".
I think of talking to you again and my jaw stiffens and perceives
The soured cheek bones, the pursed cruelty, the tight sickened blackness hanging in swelling globules beneath your sockets.
I think of the skin stretched over your ribcage
Rubbing against your bones
And your scrawny body gyrating over mine
And how much I want it.
Often now, alone, I imagine loving again
And I see this saturating darkness -
A brawl in my brain, the beat of my bosom,
Like shagging in front of a gory horror flick.
An insatiable appetite for extremities
Running tender fingers over bruises.
'Just not the face'.
Terrified, I have engulfed myself in pantomime
Exercising a personality larger and more courageous than my own.
I can leave my weaknesses in pustules under my pores
Until another squeezes them out.
And, in a way, that's what I'm waiting for.
Lost in time I cant count the words
I said when I thought they went unheard
All of those harsh thoughts so unkind
cos I wanted you
And now I sit here Im all alone
So here sits a bloody mess, tears fly home
A circle of angels, deep in war
cos I wanted you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Deep as I am, Im no ones fool
Weak as I am
So what am I now - Im love last home
Im all of the soft words I once owned
If I opened my heart, thered be no space for air
cos I wanted you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Weak as I am, no tears for you
Deep as I am, Im no ones fool
Weak as I am
In this tainted soul
In this weak young heart
Am I too much for you
In this tainted soul
In this weak young heart
Am I too much for you
In this tainted soul
In this weak young heart
Am I too much for you
Weak as I am
Weak as I am
Weak as I am
Weak as I am, am, am
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
Am I to much for you
Weak as I am
A Masochistic Tendency
I don't think about it anymore.
It's within the stale confines of matter of fact descriptions;
Within the stifled small smiles;
The rolling of words over my tongue
Until they've lost meaning.
I don't feel anymore.
I think in adjectives
I think in rhymes that I've woken with at midnight
And scribble in to the silence.
I think in syntax and composed constructed illustrations
And twisted echoes manipulated in to prose.
You are my muse.
*
This evening, we discussed ourselves in depth, me and her.
I reiterated countless occasions,
Picked lines from poems and spoke in written word.
"Wow,
he really messed you up" she said.
Everything curls and creeps over my body again
When I think of the love I've known compared to her
And "If I opened my heart, there'd be no space for air".
I think of talking to you again and my jaw stiffens and perceives
The soured cheek bones, the pursed cruelty, the tight sickened blackness hanging in swelling globules beneath your sockets.
I think of the skin stretched over your ribcage
Rubbing against your bones
And your scrawny body gyrating over mine
And how much I want it.
Often now, alone, I imagine loving again
And I see this saturating darkness -
A brawl in my brain, the beat of my bosom,
Like shagging in front of a gory horror flick.
An insatiable appetite for extremities
Running tender fingers over bruises.
'Just not the face'.
Terrified, I have engulfed myself in pantomime
Exercising a personality larger and more courageous than my own.
I can leave my weaknesses in pustules under my pores
Until another squeezes them out.
And, in a way, that's what I'm waiting for.