Letting Go....(?)
take me alive ~ Tweaker
***************
return to life
feel what’s happening
the seasons
have made me whole
the storm inside
gone with the undertow
your glowing lights make me high
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in...
return my love
hear my offering
unreason
misplaced control
the stopless night
dawn with your kiss my love
your glowing eyes light the sun
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in...
...turn around, around...I’m letting go...a peace of my soul...
here am I, come warm my bones...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's always the things we least want to remember that stick. And for me, at least, I strive to remember those things, along with everythign else, in my journals. (the Offline ones, of course). I don't know why. Maybe it's some sort of fucked up internalized masochism of the mind. Isn't that quite a rebellion? Though isn't that what depression, suicide, and all the rest is made of- turning the things you hate most about life, your emotions, that way things line up at that present time, against yourself? I want to spell check the 'n' and 'g' in the word 'everything' up there just to make it presentable but I thought twice- no, let it be. It's who I am today, in all my flaws. (And boy am I flawed- so I think.) ((But why run from it?)) It is easy to pretend that everythign is not real. It doesn't feel real. It's going to be over soon. You're going to look back at what you did or didn't do but forget that you lived. Yes, you- livign right now. There's people dying right now- bodies voluntary or not. You can't forget that enough. I've had an idea to record all my sexual fantasies and my past sexual exploits. My friend thinks that's funny because i am so non-sexual these days. (Maybe because I am not sexual with him.(thinks he?) maybe because I am tired of fuckign the wrong people.(Strongly thinks I).) I feel certain shame over some things I might choose to write down in there. Things I don't want to admit on paper because they terrorize my mind. The written word validates them and I can't pretend they're my imaginitive past. I hear all over- in the movie I watched today (White Oleander) and from a friend of mine- refereing to people being broken- to never date them. Who is broken? I certainly feel that way- tainted, misused, infectious to the possibilities of future affections that are so rare with honesty and impassioned with true infatuation. There's a fight for independence of the mind (soul?) because we don't want to feel the loneliness set in ("Loneliness is the human condition"~White Oleander) and so we try to take comfort in the fact that we are strong in striving alone. I argued this with myself in the past enetires, a month ago maybe, convincing myself of this independence. What makes me want and to want to look away at the same time? Who persisted this idea on me- pestered me with it, raped me with it. Made me taste it so I would want it and need it. But do I really? It's possible I am thinking about this too much. Maybe I am overlooking something? (Of course it's not in focus right now so how could I know?) There's so many things i want to do but my impatience stops me. I could wait forever.
***************
return to life
feel what’s happening
the seasons
have made me whole
the storm inside
gone with the undertow
your glowing lights make me high
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in...
return my love
hear my offering
unreason
misplaced control
the stopless night
dawn with your kiss my love
your glowing eyes light the sun
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in hiding
take me alive
don’t wake me up
no more time to spend in...
...turn around, around...I’m letting go...a peace of my soul...
here am I, come warm my bones...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's always the things we least want to remember that stick. And for me, at least, I strive to remember those things, along with everythign else, in my journals. (the Offline ones, of course). I don't know why. Maybe it's some sort of fucked up internalized masochism of the mind. Isn't that quite a rebellion? Though isn't that what depression, suicide, and all the rest is made of- turning the things you hate most about life, your emotions, that way things line up at that present time, against yourself? I want to spell check the 'n' and 'g' in the word 'everything' up there just to make it presentable but I thought twice- no, let it be. It's who I am today, in all my flaws. (And boy am I flawed- so I think.) ((But why run from it?)) It is easy to pretend that everythign is not real. It doesn't feel real. It's going to be over soon. You're going to look back at what you did or didn't do but forget that you lived. Yes, you- livign right now. There's people dying right now- bodies voluntary or not. You can't forget that enough. I've had an idea to record all my sexual fantasies and my past sexual exploits. My friend thinks that's funny because i am so non-sexual these days. (Maybe because I am not sexual with him.(thinks he?) maybe because I am tired of fuckign the wrong people.(Strongly thinks I).) I feel certain shame over some things I might choose to write down in there. Things I don't want to admit on paper because they terrorize my mind. The written word validates them and I can't pretend they're my imaginitive past. I hear all over- in the movie I watched today (White Oleander) and from a friend of mine- refereing to people being broken- to never date them. Who is broken? I certainly feel that way- tainted, misused, infectious to the possibilities of future affections that are so rare with honesty and impassioned with true infatuation. There's a fight for independence of the mind (soul?) because we don't want to feel the loneliness set in ("Loneliness is the human condition"~White Oleander) and so we try to take comfort in the fact that we are strong in striving alone. I argued this with myself in the past enetires, a month ago maybe, convincing myself of this independence. What makes me want and to want to look away at the same time? Who persisted this idea on me- pestered me with it, raped me with it. Made me taste it so I would want it and need it. But do I really? It's possible I am thinking about this too much. Maybe I am overlooking something? (Of course it's not in focus right now so how could I know?) There's so many things i want to do but my impatience stops me. I could wait forever.