drifting
Friday, 4. July 2008, 19:20:33
this is what immortality and in humanity can lead to when spring fades to seasons of bast and dust. when leaves fall to ash and your eyes slowly dim to not more then shaded dying sun finding s its final breath until its core goes cold. but this isn't over. nothing could ever be over in this. simply cycling. like the season that change and times that will never pass, but surely do this will be as fleeting as every prior promise and last no longer then the longest kiss.
loosing my self.
yes. this is loss this is self awareness. this is a meaning to memories and an understanding to the words that hang in the back of my throat. this is a longing for things that reflect on a moral decay. this is passion and years of bottling. this is me projecting all that i am in every direction. i was tired from the start but i found the energy to clean. yes i say it all. i say it as i always will. i say it all and found some confront in the moment. for surely being tied to a tree couldn't match the agony of sitting next to that. of what it happen and having my hands go un felt. it is what i desired. o nthe same moment the tree was my saftey. and in it i found peace. a peace beyond my years fo it was my escape from places so terrible that they would never yet be known. im sure ill return in thought and in mind. im sure that this disire to curl. legs in knees nearly crushing my chest will fade. that the knolege that no one could hold could truly confort me through this.
words find no meaning to the passion that faded. sping out rythem destroying the mellow crves of a long thought our pause. working thinking dreaming. always dreaming of places ive neever been and will never go. places ive know better then the back of my hand and people that i love untill the day i die. and all of that is false. for it all exists with qualifcations. time, relevanve, places i've been people i've known. who says that these words are mine or that i am in and of my self. you say that your scared of loosing me, what your scared of losing is the person that has come to reast on the serface of a far to overly inhabited window. ill admitt at times he is cute with silly antics and overy ly simplified jumping, drinking, fallin, laughing. you love the comversations and the fact that you seem to fit inside. you love all things that have nothing to do with him not really. you love things that are influnced more then ever relized or understood, by what is pressing him aggiends the window.
its a chineese finger trap at times. the more one pushes and puss for controll and to be set free the tight and smaller your world becomes. for so many desire to look out this window and to be hoest, leap from it. to hurtle towrds the ground and givv it a peice of thier mind when they get there. so many strugling thatsome times it takes every one sitting down and thinking, to relize that the cover has come off, and who ever wants there place can have it. no matter how well you know this, the easiest answer is still to struggle. you love the result of this struggle.
yes. there are certian consqueences and situations that would not work to our favor, but to counter ballance all those things we have the endless list of limitations that cannot be equitable to a certian amount of disconfort. there is nothing to this place if you ask me. its simply. simpily seen simply navigated and controlled. pursasion is as second nature as blinking or breathing to those of us who live in a world to which bownds are simply things that exist in horrible dreams. even in dreams we know we can break them.
i am not your answer or your friend. i exist meerly to serve my purpose for it serves my self. ill take care and protect, but only as longs as appesed. ill give it all back to him if you want. for with little respect comes great consequece. no you have no understanding. dont push me. and stop calling others this name.
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air... AIR... AIR! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AIR! breath. BREATH. .inhale. god fucking damint im not reminding you agian. .still gasping. .catching breath, holding chest. .covered dripping agian. where was it? you never left. you were as and where you always have been. what were they doing? they? it is only you. your face your eyes staring back at your eyes. no. well not exactly, but it is your doing. fuck you. its all your doing my lord.
===============================================================================
though process inturepted. no point in reacing for that is not cessary. simple words from a simple boy.
im sorry.
loosing my self.
yes. this is loss this is self awareness. this is a meaning to memories and an understanding to the words that hang in the back of my throat. this is a longing for things that reflect on a moral decay. this is passion and years of bottling. this is me projecting all that i am in every direction. i was tired from the start but i found the energy to clean. yes i say it all. i say it as i always will. i say it all and found some confront in the moment. for surely being tied to a tree couldn't match the agony of sitting next to that. of what it happen and having my hands go un felt. it is what i desired. o nthe same moment the tree was my saftey. and in it i found peace. a peace beyond my years fo it was my escape from places so terrible that they would never yet be known. im sure ill return in thought and in mind. im sure that this disire to curl. legs in knees nearly crushing my chest will fade. that the knolege that no one could hold could truly confort me through this.
words find no meaning to the passion that faded. sping out rythem destroying the mellow crves of a long thought our pause. working thinking dreaming. always dreaming of places ive neever been and will never go. places ive know better then the back of my hand and people that i love untill the day i die. and all of that is false. for it all exists with qualifcations. time, relevanve, places i've been people i've known. who says that these words are mine or that i am in and of my self. you say that your scared of loosing me, what your scared of losing is the person that has come to reast on the serface of a far to overly inhabited window. ill admitt at times he is cute with silly antics and overy ly simplified jumping, drinking, fallin, laughing. you love the comversations and the fact that you seem to fit inside. you love all things that have nothing to do with him not really. you love things that are influnced more then ever relized or understood, by what is pressing him aggiends the window.
its a chineese finger trap at times. the more one pushes and puss for controll and to be set free the tight and smaller your world becomes. for so many desire to look out this window and to be hoest, leap from it. to hurtle towrds the ground and givv it a peice of thier mind when they get there. so many strugling thatsome times it takes every one sitting down and thinking, to relize that the cover has come off, and who ever wants there place can have it. no matter how well you know this, the easiest answer is still to struggle. you love the result of this struggle.
yes. there are certian consqueences and situations that would not work to our favor, but to counter ballance all those things we have the endless list of limitations that cannot be equitable to a certian amount of disconfort. there is nothing to this place if you ask me. its simply. simpily seen simply navigated and controlled. pursasion is as second nature as blinking or breathing to those of us who live in a world to which bownds are simply things that exist in horrible dreams. even in dreams we know we can break them.
i am not your answer or your friend. i exist meerly to serve my purpose for it serves my self. ill take care and protect, but only as longs as appesed. ill give it all back to him if you want. for with little respect comes great consequece. no you have no understanding. dont push me. and stop calling others this name.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
air... AIR... AIR! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AIR! breath. BREATH. .inhale. god fucking damint im not reminding you agian. .still gasping. .catching breath, holding chest. .covered dripping agian. where was it? you never left. you were as and where you always have been. what were they doing? they? it is only you. your face your eyes staring back at your eyes. no. well not exactly, but it is your doing. fuck you. its all your doing my lord.
===============================================================================
though process inturepted. no point in reacing for that is not cessary. simple words from a simple boy.
im sorry.
