And I Was.
One day we were.
And then we weren’t.
And I wanted to cry.
I still was.
But you were not.
And you became relegated to the recesses of my mind.
And I forgot to cry.
One day I found you again.
And we were again.
But you weren’t you. And I wasn’t me.
So we weren’t us anymore.
So I cried.
And I still am.
Tag: copyrighted
I’ll Lie
If you ask me how I’m doing;
If you wonder how I’m feeling;
I will lie to you.
I’ll tell you I’m fine.
Things are going OK.
I might hint at the truth of the matter.
I might stumble through my words.
I might give you a half-truth.
I might give you a non-answer.
But I’ll probably never tell you the truth.
I’m not fine.
Things are not OK.
I’m drowning in fear and worry.
You probably ask because you care.
But I am not capable of believing it.
Because I don’t care. So how could you?
We are all conditioned to hear these questions as small talk.
We are all conditioned to respond in kind.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Fine, you?”
“Yeah, nothing much.”
…
Here’s the deal: “choose one Cure album, and make a story, using every track on it.”
And here’s my story:
*The kiss* is the key, but there is a *catch*, it could be *torture* … *If only tonight we could sleep*, then we would be rested for the journey. Your role in all of this is by far easier, *why can’t I be you* this time? I know, I know, it is all because of *how beautiful you are*. I’m the ugly one, so I get the crap job, I have to make my way through *the snake pit* and the other perilous tasks. *Hey you*, your task is *just like heaven* in comparison. *All I want* is a refrigerated suit for the next task, after all, you wouldn’t believe just how *hot, hot, hot* it is going through that oven *one more time*. You, you get to sit and just look pretty, *like cockatoos* on display. Licking the *icing sugar* off the silver spoon. The perfect job for *the perfect girl*. *A thousand hours* later, and all I can to is *shiver and shake*, and hope that this *fight* has been worth the prize.
The Phoenix
As the inky cloud of death fills her eyes,
he is the last image burned onto her retinae.
In time, that too fades, and all is forgotten.
An explosion lifts her out of her grave
and returns her to the realm of the living. Continue reading
The Princess
princess, alone in her tower,
sharing her song.
those lucky enough to stop,
listen.
words strike the heartstrings
like felt hammers on piano wire,
infecting you with her song.
your song calls back,
and the princess listens.
for that brief exchange,
the tower dissolves
and she is not alone.
Because I want to remember this
What follows is a copy/paste from a 2003 LJ post. Enjoy?
I’m new to the group. I’ll likely be a lurker at best… and just ignore the group at worst…
But, here’s my skinny.
1) I’m *ancient* 32 at last tally.
2) I’m a Cure fan.. but not a fanatic.
3) If Only Tonight will always be my favorite Cure song.
4) I was introduced back in 1987 with the KMKMKM album. After that, I went back and got all their older stuff. And cursed most of the newer stuff after that point. Since then, I’ve matured quite a bit and like almost all of their stuff, old *and* new.
5) I’ve only ever had the pleasure of attending one concert… and boy was I disappointed. That is what this post will be about…
Continue reading
An Old Song
Rain on snares meters the pace.
Smooth, rolling, blue.
The sax man wails.
A smoke-filled club . . .
And the night . . . melts . . . into yesterday.
Time flits through
On wings of an old song.
The ivory tones chase strings of gold
Through the gentle, crashing waves.
While we race the bleating brass,
The bass line leads us home.
untitled
as I slip into the night, the water crashes in around me.
my lover’s body is inches away, yet millions of miles split us.
the chasm of desire lost.
the void of lust drowned.
the pit of love fading.
The holes these leave are filled with naught,
a draught to wash away the pain.
untitled
jet black, inky darkness envelopes the last ounce of joy
pure moments of true happiness are fleeting at best
dull, lifeless routine, is de rigueur.
how can anyone survive in this guise, let alone truly live?
Hiding
Hiding. You deal with your depression by wearing a
mask. No one ever knows you’re depressed, so no
one can ever pity you. On the outside you’re
calm and collected. Inside, your blood boils…
But that’s ok, as long as everyone thinks
you’re normal.