Red...
~~~There isnt anything anymore for those such as I. Nothing. I wish I could say there was emptyness, but that would be a carefree fantasy afforded by those with fortune. I feel no love. There is no compassion or understanding, that mirror runs dark. I'm confused. I'm scared. And yet I lock my door waiting for my guest. They will just pass by, open or closed.
~~~Why can't I afford some peace? Why cant I let myself feel something than this unyeilding anger and fury. Its all I have in place of those things that would let my cry out, shielded by my own tears of joy and hope. There is nothing but that "redness" that fills my whole being. I'm not a bad person. I do not hate. But there is no room in my life for those times of "good". As the life has played out there has been only pain replacing that time of peace, and ten fold raping all times of joy.
~~~I'm lacking in the love of masochism and so I try and feel no love, or joy, or beauty. What would it matter? Who would I share such things with? When I try and find joy in something and rest alone, I but to have look around to see I have nothing. I cant afford to have these things to myself, I will pull in, and disappear. And should I return is when I will see I have no place, or people, or anything.
~~~I want to strike out. I want to let this pain free, scream, yell, break everything. But thats not who I am. I give in hopes of releif, but rejection follows my good will. I want to hate. Then I could focus, let this just run through me, leave me unharmed. Nor is that me. So I'll just fume, wish for release, and someday look forward to hope. Somewhere... I made a funny.
~~~Displace! Run! Let those ribbons fly and bend knee to the displacement that offers no solice. Perhaps there is joy in ones sorrow. Simply, Grin... And bare it!
~~~Why can't I afford some peace? Why cant I let myself feel something than this unyeilding anger and fury. Its all I have in place of those things that would let my cry out, shielded by my own tears of joy and hope. There is nothing but that "redness" that fills my whole being. I'm not a bad person. I do not hate. But there is no room in my life for those times of "good". As the life has played out there has been only pain replacing that time of peace, and ten fold raping all times of joy.
~~~I'm lacking in the love of masochism and so I try and feel no love, or joy, or beauty. What would it matter? Who would I share such things with? When I try and find joy in something and rest alone, I but to have look around to see I have nothing. I cant afford to have these things to myself, I will pull in, and disappear. And should I return is when I will see I have no place, or people, or anything.
~~~I want to strike out. I want to let this pain free, scream, yell, break everything. But thats not who I am. I give in hopes of releif, but rejection follows my good will. I want to hate. Then I could focus, let this just run through me, leave me unharmed. Nor is that me. So I'll just fume, wish for release, and someday look forward to hope. Somewhere... I made a funny.
~~~Displace! Run! Let those ribbons fly and bend knee to the displacement that offers no solice. Perhaps there is joy in ones sorrow. Simply, Grin... And bare it!