some poetry...
let it all come into me
staining recious blood
let the pain gush through my sorry vains
bring flowers for the dieing
take gifts from the living
not feeling what is goung on
shaking violently
come on breath, you can come out...
unregularly it excapes.
i taste death all around me
i can't excape it's misurey
i can faintly see
a bird pirched on the window
don't go away little bird
these chains won't hurt you
they are only keeping me
from hurting you
so often i take beauty and
accidently crush it...
my torn and tattered fingers
don't want to hang on anymore,
i'd hate to remove
the bandages that hold in my sanity
i don't want to see
the scars that this being has left on me...
i feel dead. i can't breathe right now a days some of the air comes in slowly so that i am gaping for more or it is too up beat like someone else is breathing in air for me, like there was someone else in here with me, taking over all my functions. My hands and toes are always cold. i dream of brids and butterflies speaking to angels saying things like t"you see that one, she was cast out like the dragon..." and "soon she won't see wings anymore, only an image that has no meaning", they are talking about me! i don't know what this is to mean. i don't know what i am doing half of the time. i can excape when i write and when there is laughter, or art... when the brain seems to be working, it is not me that is using it. when i speak most of the time it isn't my voice... it is like something is going to comeforth and i don't know what.
staining recious blood
let the pain gush through my sorry vains
bring flowers for the dieing
take gifts from the living
not feeling what is goung on
shaking violently
come on breath, you can come out...
unregularly it excapes.
i taste death all around me
i can't excape it's misurey
i can faintly see
a bird pirched on the window
don't go away little bird
these chains won't hurt you
they are only keeping me
from hurting you
so often i take beauty and
accidently crush it...
my torn and tattered fingers
don't want to hang on anymore,
i'd hate to remove
the bandages that hold in my sanity
i don't want to see
the scars that this being has left on me...
i feel dead. i can't breathe right now a days some of the air comes in slowly so that i am gaping for more or it is too up beat like someone else is breathing in air for me, like there was someone else in here with me, taking over all my functions. My hands and toes are always cold. i dream of brids and butterflies speaking to angels saying things like t"you see that one, she was cast out like the dragon..." and "soon she won't see wings anymore, only an image that has no meaning", they are talking about me! i don't know what this is to mean. i don't know what i am doing half of the time. i can excape when i write and when there is laughter, or art... when the brain seems to be working, it is not me that is using it. when i speak most of the time it isn't my voice... it is like something is going to comeforth and i don't know what.