Ramblings... and poetry/prose from an OLD deviantART account.
Heehee.
I just spent a fabulous New Year with Justin. Mmm. I miss him already. :P
I'm currently taking a break from working on art projects. I really need to get my ass in gear and get some work done... but... mrrr. I don't even want to go back to school. I don't even want to be here in Greenville anymore. It just doesn't seem like the place for me, ya know? 5 more months of school... then I've got to put up with summer here. Grrr. THAT is going to blow. Summer will probably become something like last summer: Get tired of mom bitching that (despite being almost a free maid) I don't do SHIT... so I work a job all the time. Work. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Work. Sleep. It would probably be a job that pays something close to $6.25 like last summer. The sad thing is: I've got nothing to show for my hard work. I spent it all on things that I needed... or spoiling someone rotten. o.0 Yeah. Do I regret it? Fuck yes. Will I learn? Damn straight. Do I still have a lot of that cash earned? Well... I still do... but a lot of it is going to pay for WoW. >.> rofl.
Mrr... I just can't stand being here. And I quote...
"It isn't alright to reside in this town anymore, and what for?
This city's colder than it used to be.
Sometimes I wonder can anyone else see."
-The Fold - "New City"
Mrr. May 31st, here I come. God, I don't even want to go back to school on the 3rd. I really hate Mauldin High. It bothers me. Something about that school deeply bothers me. I just... hate it.
Anywho. Enough of my ramblings.
Poetry/Prose anyone?
Keep in mind, this is some OLD stuff....
"The Anarchy of You"
Imprisoned by my own body,
my soul shakes the bars, longing to fly.
It prays for my body to die so
it can move on.
There's an abated reason to live,
an affliction I can't rid myself.
I relinquish everything,
I pervade my stolid and profuse spirit-
that you killed-
and damned it to this perpetuity of anguish.
What's morbid is that my reveries spread to you,
and I laugh at the sense that my end is near.
It seems you render my soul to become
a reprole and improvident epitaph...
something so haunting and useless that
it drives the most sane man to become malicious and psychotic.
You humer every minute of my suffering,
grotesquely guffawing- I want to stop it-
stop the drone of laughter that I averse!
Oh, I wish God would appease my longings...
to constrain me into my abyss that is - ironically -
Six feet deep.
To end my torment and allow my blanched spirit to
disembody, to rid itself of
fatigue and physical forms.
But all I do is suffer...
I'm tired of trying - I know I'm dying,
I'm going to stand back and let it happen,
only because I can do no more.
The Writer
A form of expression:
My cure for depression...
... A constant recession
into the depths of my mind.
I write for the fact
my paper won't bark back
when I limn these few words
into a rhyme.
Prison
Prison. Held captive.
One thing that one cannot describe unless experienced in a personal matter.
Her hands upon my neck, its more than I can stand.
Her hands so cold... so hard... so unfamiliar.
The hands of a mother are supposed to be soft,
Gentle, loving, caring, and soothing.
I feel ice in the death grip.
-I can’t breathe-
I feel so isolated and detached.
-I can’t feel-
I don’t know this mother anymore.
I feel she is no longer mine.
-I can’t love her-
Feelings so complex become unearthed.
I feel the phantom of her hands.
The ice-cold hands of death upon my neck,
squeezing harder as words become squeaks, gags, and coughs.
Squeezing harder as vessels begin to pop, leaving pockets of blood under my skin.
I can’t breathe, I can’t sleep, I can’t live.
She’s a stranger, she kills me.
I squirm in her presence with dis-ease.
I can still feel the phantom... the deathly grip... I feel the pain. The sore, crushing pain that just won't subside until the very last breath is drawn... and with that breath: I die.
I’m scared of what is next. I’m scared of what tomorrow will bring. I’m so scared.
I get two hours of sleep and wake from a terrifying dream.
I realize: My hell has only just begun.
This was no dream.
Prison! I’m held captive! I’m so scared of what is next. I’m scared of the mother who has been lying to me all my life.
I’m so scared. And with this last breath...
I die.
Autumn To Ashes
We lose so many things in life...
things we can't replace.
A lot of things are people...
all memories we will never erase.
In the autumn,
the trees weep.
They weep with tears:
their shed leaves.
Later they become brittle,
they crumble into ashes.
It's only so sad,
that we want what we can't keep.
I walk a lonely path...
I walk it with many fears...
I live in a world so little,
And my eyes only bear tears...
So sad that my most loved ones
endure a permanent sleep.
Memories in my heart are only quick flashes
as my life passes by.
Every time I walk this path,
I know it goes from Autumn to ashes.
Forbidden
The love they had:
so innocent
and forbidden.
The things they shared:
so passionate
and kept hidden.
She was cheated... and lied to.
He was guilty... and if only he knew.
"If only you knew...
(Maybe this wouldn't have happened...)
... How much she wanted you...
(... She lives like she's best forgotten...)"
She lays on the floor,
crying is all she does.
No one knocks on her door,
after all that you've done.
"If only she knew...
(Maybe it wouldn't be this way...)
... that you wanted to care...
(... only from herself: she runs away...)"
The love she wanted
was so forbidden...
and tempting...
It was something he couldn't give.
And to him:
She was always forgotten.
"If in his heart, love had a hold...
(Things would be so much different.)
Maybe she wouldn't be dead...
(Nothing should ever be this way...)
... on the floor so cold."
Bleh. I hate it all... but meh... Whatever, eh?
I just spent a fabulous New Year with Justin. Mmm. I miss him already. :P
I'm currently taking a break from working on art projects. I really need to get my ass in gear and get some work done... but... mrrr. I don't even want to go back to school. I don't even want to be here in Greenville anymore. It just doesn't seem like the place for me, ya know? 5 more months of school... then I've got to put up with summer here. Grrr. THAT is going to blow. Summer will probably become something like last summer: Get tired of mom bitching that (despite being almost a free maid) I don't do SHIT... so I work a job all the time. Work. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Work. Sleep. It would probably be a job that pays something close to $6.25 like last summer. The sad thing is: I've got nothing to show for my hard work. I spent it all on things that I needed... or spoiling someone rotten. o.0 Yeah. Do I regret it? Fuck yes. Will I learn? Damn straight. Do I still have a lot of that cash earned? Well... I still do... but a lot of it is going to pay for WoW. >.> rofl.
Mrr... I just can't stand being here. And I quote...
"It isn't alright to reside in this town anymore, and what for?
This city's colder than it used to be.
Sometimes I wonder can anyone else see."
-The Fold - "New City"
Mrr. May 31st, here I come. God, I don't even want to go back to school on the 3rd. I really hate Mauldin High. It bothers me. Something about that school deeply bothers me. I just... hate it.
Anywho. Enough of my ramblings.
Poetry/Prose anyone?
Keep in mind, this is some OLD stuff....
"The Anarchy of You"
Imprisoned by my own body,
my soul shakes the bars, longing to fly.
It prays for my body to die so
it can move on.
There's an abated reason to live,
an affliction I can't rid myself.
I relinquish everything,
I pervade my stolid and profuse spirit-
that you killed-
and damned it to this perpetuity of anguish.
What's morbid is that my reveries spread to you,
and I laugh at the sense that my end is near.
It seems you render my soul to become
a reprole and improvident epitaph...
something so haunting and useless that
it drives the most sane man to become malicious and psychotic.
You humer every minute of my suffering,
grotesquely guffawing- I want to stop it-
stop the drone of laughter that I averse!
Oh, I wish God would appease my longings...
to constrain me into my abyss that is - ironically -
Six feet deep.
To end my torment and allow my blanched spirit to
disembody, to rid itself of
fatigue and physical forms.
But all I do is suffer...
I'm tired of trying - I know I'm dying,
I'm going to stand back and let it happen,
only because I can do no more.
The Writer
A form of expression:
My cure for depression...
... A constant recession
into the depths of my mind.
I write for the fact
my paper won't bark back
when I limn these few words
into a rhyme.
Prison
Prison. Held captive.
One thing that one cannot describe unless experienced in a personal matter.
Her hands upon my neck, its more than I can stand.
Her hands so cold... so hard... so unfamiliar.
The hands of a mother are supposed to be soft,
Gentle, loving, caring, and soothing.
I feel ice in the death grip.
-I can’t breathe-
I feel so isolated and detached.
-I can’t feel-
I don’t know this mother anymore.
I feel she is no longer mine.
-I can’t love her-
Feelings so complex become unearthed.
I feel the phantom of her hands.
The ice-cold hands of death upon my neck,
squeezing harder as words become squeaks, gags, and coughs.
Squeezing harder as vessels begin to pop, leaving pockets of blood under my skin.
I can’t breathe, I can’t sleep, I can’t live.
She’s a stranger, she kills me.
I squirm in her presence with dis-ease.
I can still feel the phantom... the deathly grip... I feel the pain. The sore, crushing pain that just won't subside until the very last breath is drawn... and with that breath: I die.
I’m scared of what is next. I’m scared of what tomorrow will bring. I’m so scared.
I get two hours of sleep and wake from a terrifying dream.
I realize: My hell has only just begun.
This was no dream.
Prison! I’m held captive! I’m so scared of what is next. I’m scared of the mother who has been lying to me all my life.
I’m so scared. And with this last breath...
I die.
Autumn To Ashes
We lose so many things in life...
things we can't replace.
A lot of things are people...
all memories we will never erase.
In the autumn,
the trees weep.
They weep with tears:
their shed leaves.
Later they become brittle,
they crumble into ashes.
It's only so sad,
that we want what we can't keep.
I walk a lonely path...
I walk it with many fears...
I live in a world so little,
And my eyes only bear tears...
So sad that my most loved ones
endure a permanent sleep.
Memories in my heart are only quick flashes
as my life passes by.
Every time I walk this path,
I know it goes from Autumn to ashes.
Forbidden
The love they had:
so innocent
and forbidden.
The things they shared:
so passionate
and kept hidden.
She was cheated... and lied to.
He was guilty... and if only he knew.
"If only you knew...
(Maybe this wouldn't have happened...)
... How much she wanted you...
(... She lives like she's best forgotten...)"
She lays on the floor,
crying is all she does.
No one knocks on her door,
after all that you've done.
"If only she knew...
(Maybe it wouldn't be this way...)
... that you wanted to care...
(... only from herself: she runs away...)"
The love she wanted
was so forbidden...
and tempting...
It was something he couldn't give.
And to him:
She was always forgotten.
"If in his heart, love had a hold...
(Things would be so much different.)
Maybe she wouldn't be dead...
(Nothing should ever be this way...)
... on the floor so cold."
Bleh. I hate it all... but meh... Whatever, eh?