07:04
There’s no pacifying the hunger
No quenching the desire
We all stand and stare at the sky
While burning in our fire
Don’t talk of things you don’t know
Don’t dream of things you’ll never see
You’ll only find the haunted
Twisted parts of me
I wake and scream all these names
Every night the dream’s the same
All
All the pieces tattered and torn trying to make myself ok buried down at the bottom smashed the dreams I'll start again getting lost been thrown away this is all I wanted Trying to get back from where I'm from the better I get the worse I become
21:09
We are all rivers
Ending in the same ocean
Death comes to us all
We are drops in the sea
Drifting in perpetual motion
Until the inevitable fall
17:50
I’m tired of death
Like 16:30 in a crack house
Yellow, fading light of dusk coming
Cigarette burnt lace curtains
I’m tired of life
Lungs filled with ash and dust
Reflected life in broken windows
Diseased, unable to move
I’m tired of staring at the ceiling
Waiting for the same damaged dawn
Pieces of dreams litter the floor
Staining the carpets with memory
I’m drowning, I don’t care
I’m at the inevitable collapse
Diluted, a dirty blocked drain
I woke here in the dirt
here in the dirt I remain
No point whatsover
“If romance makes you sick, then what’s all this?” She asked.
“See that’s where you’re mistaken, this isn’t romance, but its death.” He replied. He then added, almost whispering; “so many years wasted on love, only end in bitter cynicism.”
The Movies
Love is so easy to let in,but almost impossibe to let out, and each night the lonliness creeps back in…When I stare at the empty bed she no longer graces. There’s simply nothing else there at two in the morning, just the dark, the bed and I.
It’s the deepening silence I feel each day when I walk in and put down my keys, there used to be a purpose, now it’s an endless repition of the mundane.
I write these words as if they mean something, as if I could put each thought and memory down as they occured, yet they just don’t convey what I see.
I feel madness creeping in, though I tried to close the doors. I shut all the windows, yet rather than keep the anguish out, I locked my demons in.
Some days I’m almost at peace, surrendering to what seems the inevitable, that all I want simply will not be, and that one day it will all be over, but what is life without hope? Is this already a living death where I am simply standing outside of my tomb beginning to decay?
I have no answers, clear direction, I just keep praying that I’ll run into someone while shopping for catfood and that will be it, just like in the movies…
But this isn’t the movies, is it?
08:37
“teenage angst has paid off well, now that I’m bored and old,” never realised how prophetic these words would be.
I wanted to change the world, now I can do is change channels…
Repitition
Memoirs of a sinner 