Lingering Dream Cathartic Indeed
Sometimes I feel like the rebel vampire that has already been through this all to many times. If you have an old soul does that not make you that much older? At what point do you realize your past lives and at what point do the lost years stack upon your heavy soul. Is it like a wakening that sparks your mind full of wisdom and knowledge? Is it when the doors to other rooms open in a split second like in those near death experiences?
Let my words contradict themselves in symmetrical halves that only connect by those invisible lines we call reality. Just aching to be heard over the void that is my backyard. So many holes being dug to put the bodies in, so many marked graves to put names on to. The mark of a soldier bears the mark of all life. A soldier of war, a soldier of life, a soldier of the mind. Does it yet not come with a grotesque vision of lucidity like dream walking into minefields. At the end I would just love to see my life flash before my eyes and be able to remember it in the next life. Oh tiger behind the tree hear my cry as I bleed onto the grass. Be the hunted one they so much love to chase in the waking hour of the day. Be the vengeance hiding behind the bush, be the hyena they so deserve.
Thy anger cloud my judgment in intervals of confusion and despair. For it is only the blanket that keeps me warm in the coldest of nights. The arctic chill of life creeps along my skin as I shiver. I shiver only to be reminded of a time of my past. A time when the air was not so cold but warm and vibrant like the sun. The leaves had a certain sentimental value to them even in the younger years. Memories harbor the anger that fills my void between the love loss in my life. The outlaw only sings of sadness, but dances to the happiness out of the sadness.
Walking down that road, may I never look back. May I never look back.
Let my words contradict themselves in symmetrical halves that only connect by those invisible lines we call reality. Just aching to be heard over the void that is my backyard. So many holes being dug to put the bodies in, so many marked graves to put names on to. The mark of a soldier bears the mark of all life. A soldier of war, a soldier of life, a soldier of the mind. Does it yet not come with a grotesque vision of lucidity like dream walking into minefields. At the end I would just love to see my life flash before my eyes and be able to remember it in the next life. Oh tiger behind the tree hear my cry as I bleed onto the grass. Be the hunted one they so much love to chase in the waking hour of the day. Be the vengeance hiding behind the bush, be the hyena they so deserve.
Thy anger cloud my judgment in intervals of confusion and despair. For it is only the blanket that keeps me warm in the coldest of nights. The arctic chill of life creeps along my skin as I shiver. I shiver only to be reminded of a time of my past. A time when the air was not so cold but warm and vibrant like the sun. The leaves had a certain sentimental value to them even in the younger years. Memories harbor the anger that fills my void between the love loss in my life. The outlaw only sings of sadness, but dances to the happiness out of the sadness.
Walking down that road, may I never look back. May I never look back.