Past past past....
Does it feel that good,
So good that the past can reach out,
With its skeleton hand to grasp,
Grasp and choke my conscience.
Can I be os nieve to think,
I could be any better,
A better feeling in your blood...
Coarsing through your blood and mind.
Am I,
A cure to your once disease,
Brought forth by hate,
Bringing forth my own tears...
The pain is unlike the blade,
As it cuts quietly
Should I ignore,
Or scratch more for answers...
It's well enough to say it's dead...
But as I imagine all I feel is the evil...
And these choking rivers stop,
Just to cut a little more...
can I forget
Everyone and everything...
But does it now,
Make you who you are...
Kill the past like a fist kills pain,
And I choke it back like nothing
Ever
Happened...
Black eyes white wrists
Red knuckles burning bone...
And in the shadows...
It's lost...
RRRRRRRRRRR WHAT IS THIS frustration and why cant i control anything any more is it that the animal has been too far relased, too far from the cage to call back for dinner, even when its hungry or does it feed now, off the anger and frustration it produces itself, and why cant it, turn around and bite the feeding hand? Bring the end to the suffering and allow the evil to bleed to death, on the white linoleum floor, and watch in the crimson reflection, a past wash away as the water poors over... but the stains remain the stains remain and not even the bleech can raise it from the sand washed floors and not even the flames can burn it from the wood built floor and not even the ashs can hide the hate... the hate of such a past which has once been spilled to the floor....
So good that the past can reach out,
With its skeleton hand to grasp,
Grasp and choke my conscience.
Can I be os nieve to think,
I could be any better,
A better feeling in your blood...
Coarsing through your blood and mind.
Am I,
A cure to your once disease,
Brought forth by hate,
Bringing forth my own tears...
The pain is unlike the blade,
As it cuts quietly
Should I ignore,
Or scratch more for answers...
It's well enough to say it's dead...
But as I imagine all I feel is the evil...
And these choking rivers stop,
Just to cut a little more...
can I forget
Everyone and everything...
But does it now,
Make you who you are...
Kill the past like a fist kills pain,
And I choke it back like nothing
Ever
Happened...
Black eyes white wrists
Red knuckles burning bone...
And in the shadows...
It's lost...
RRRRRRRRRRR WHAT IS THIS frustration and why cant i control anything any more is it that the animal has been too far relased, too far from the cage to call back for dinner, even when its hungry or does it feed now, off the anger and frustration it produces itself, and why cant it, turn around and bite the feeding hand? Bring the end to the suffering and allow the evil to bleed to death, on the white linoleum floor, and watch in the crimson reflection, a past wash away as the water poors over... but the stains remain the stains remain and not even the bleech can raise it from the sand washed floors and not even the flames can burn it from the wood built floor and not even the ashs can hide the hate... the hate of such a past which has once been spilled to the floor....