Here for another day
This isn't for a lost love or a decieved friend. These aren't words of encouragment, or words of sorrow. This isn't angst, this isn't devastation. This is all for what it is, and what i've always wanted it to be. It is just as you'll make it out to be. Words that have been bred from thoughts of lust, hate, discrimination, and heartache. Derived from these thoughts and dreams that I can only wish to comprehend. Laying restless in this dispostion, yet if i could think with more optimism, I could consider it an advantage. But only with the consumption of these mass produced bottles of poison, I can escape these everday insecurities, meanwhile letting my entrails rot.While laying numb next to a campfire, under the stars. I considered letting go for a few hours. But the thoughts and demons in the back of my mind couldn't resist attacking me at such a vulnerable state, injecting a virus where solitude and antipathy take over. For the most part, the memory of it all blurs together. But the remembrance of huddling up in a cardboard box in a dark bathroom, sort of ignites my memory. I can't recall what I wanted to write, or the preordained entry that I wasn't able to submit at the time. So im just going to end it as it is. Getting myself nowhere as usual, sounding blurred together and all, but whatever, It happens.
A song I wrote, unfinished, a rough draft.
The Crucifixion
For her, I strain to say “Darling ill make your grave.” It’s sickening, these games we play… It’s sickening, the way you say “I want you, I want you back…” with those tear scarred eyes, prove it’s just another heartless attempt, to scorn at me with these words, because no one else would listen… yet beautiful you come off to me, in your ways you proceed to be. Under all this heartache you’re a silent killer, hair pulled back and mascara dripping. The blade stays intact with the skin; a crimson sea begins emerging from the hollows of these veins. Your desperate attempt to rid me of these sins, only allows more vulnerable pains to begin. Pinpoint pain and narrow down the affection, roses thorns are a god sent blessing, as they tear this flesh from my dying grip. You plague my thoughts as the sun settles, that casts a shadow upon this vacant lot… a bloody angel wishing for death as the lovers trot to there foreseen destination. A period of silence, followed by a period of sorrow. Counting the seconds till this heavenly departure.
Lustful vengeance and conceived well-being, thoughtless rumors against these romantic evenings… our candle lit dinner… where the flames blown out, from your ignorant accusations… and broken promises… at least that’s what you suspected. “Beg for mercy” you whispered in my ear… but I thought you knew me… id die before I lost my dignity (at least what I have left). Lay me out in this modern day crucifix, slit wrist and broken ankles… the blade you lodge in these ribs, aiming for the heart you missed. But I’m not a prince, so instead of a crown… a kiss of death upon this brow.
A song I wrote, unfinished, a rough draft.
The Crucifixion
For her, I strain to say “Darling ill make your grave.” It’s sickening, these games we play… It’s sickening, the way you say “I want you, I want you back…” with those tear scarred eyes, prove it’s just another heartless attempt, to scorn at me with these words, because no one else would listen… yet beautiful you come off to me, in your ways you proceed to be. Under all this heartache you’re a silent killer, hair pulled back and mascara dripping. The blade stays intact with the skin; a crimson sea begins emerging from the hollows of these veins. Your desperate attempt to rid me of these sins, only allows more vulnerable pains to begin. Pinpoint pain and narrow down the affection, roses thorns are a god sent blessing, as they tear this flesh from my dying grip. You plague my thoughts as the sun settles, that casts a shadow upon this vacant lot… a bloody angel wishing for death as the lovers trot to there foreseen destination. A period of silence, followed by a period of sorrow. Counting the seconds till this heavenly departure.
Lustful vengeance and conceived well-being, thoughtless rumors against these romantic evenings… our candle lit dinner… where the flames blown out, from your ignorant accusations… and broken promises… at least that’s what you suspected. “Beg for mercy” you whispered in my ear… but I thought you knew me… id die before I lost my dignity (at least what I have left). Lay me out in this modern day crucifix, slit wrist and broken ankles… the blade you lodge in these ribs, aiming for the heart you missed. But I’m not a prince, so instead of a crown… a kiss of death upon this brow.