Dec 24, 2004 03:46
Is it normal for rest to only lie within the somber words written by my hand? Seems my only warmth anymore comes from the words sung by so many beautiful souls....surely remembering every moment breathe accompanies me, the words cutting through my cotton nit sweater....
i find no comfort really anymore....i find writing here far from it, even offensive to nature, in all righteous forms....but it entertains me in this sleepless hour....I wish i could be happy....i find myself often in a group of people, feeling lonelier than sleep in an empty bed....
who reads books anymore? or sleeps in a field with a guitar and baskit full of crappy food that is supposed to kill you at a youthful age? its as if i have lived before, and have come back....to an empty world....people strangers, that one could never talk to....
i dont have any real friends....they all left....they have something better to do, lives....or too busy being cool....i guess everyones supposed to be self centered....too bad for me....i could never understand that....
"i knew there I'd die alone
with no one to reach to
but a ghost came down
and brought me back to you
i'd rather leave this world forever
than let life go the way it's going
sing to me once more my love
words from your younger years"