the-devils-own

A long time ago I fell, tumbling down,      and it took me a moment to climb back up again. You could say I've       been clumsy because I fell an awful lot. See, when you look close there's      bruises--so many bruises-- and in the most classical of conditionings      I learned to shut myself down. Let me live for you instead of me. I can      deal with that so much better than facing these bruises, these scars--      because now I am trying. I am pushing my way back up when I

there's this vast, empty darkness in the back of my mind. it's a place i go to all the time; a place, a feeling, maybe it's even something like a lifestyle. or, not so much a lifestyle, as it is my way of life. i would describe it as an intense thing but it seems to be more or less the exact opposite -- it's unyielding, unfeeling, indifferent. the dark is neither oppressive nor is it freedom. it just is. the dark crawls, languidly swims, twisting, never still. the sheer inability to fathom it is always threatening to swallow my sanity, so i must watch it from the corners of my eyes or not look at all; never daring to look it full-on for fear

{le papillion perdu} the people around us are bustling, pushing, shoving; it's a terribly crowded day. i'm sucked into the natural flow of the throng as i follow alongside my companion—in this place, in this world, i know this person. they're talking and laughing and explaining some incident to me that happened days ago and i will, of course, smile and nod on cue or laugh in all the correct places as if this were the most natural and interesting thing i have ever heard. i look different. i'm older and a little more refined, more polished looking. the weight that was such a bother to me in the past is gone; i'm not "slender" per say, i never

{amaranthine narcotic} endless days and endless nights! some endless months since time began and endless months yet til it will ever resolve. though clearly, for all the endlessness, it is far too soon! still the taste of wanting burns profusely, burns harshly and without mercy in the back of my eyes. time's focus is narrow and wavering--still, i sought the corners of those lips, precious and fleeting--how i hope to see them smile! for what is pleasure but lax and insufficient if those soft, gentle curves are missing? in retrospect, i shall drown myself within your eyes; for this were the poison i ceaselessly crave.

{quiescent exterior} it amazes me that while one person's heart breaks the atmosphere can be so quiet; crystalline clear and empty air reverberating with the smooth, cold and callused indifference that is humanity. oh, darling, can't you hear it? in the depths of my skull, the deep and ceaseless crevices of my soul--it sounds like the angry thunder of a storm or the ruin of some great, shining city as it falls. there are screams of pain and the rising of dust with each tormenting shatter, each gnash and tear as my life-blood drops to caress the smooth earth and pool to the edges of your vision.

{vacancy} tragically, i am won't to be of dispositions which displease me i haven't time to stay immobile and lose my soul to happy images, picturesque fantasy of what was past, what may be, or what i crave because these were false. lies, lies, and lies! there is nothing but the here-and-now, without you in my arms! undoubtedly, my perfectionism gets the better of me-- you set the precedent without realizing it

{aqueous sorrow} bloody streaks of love escape the liquid of my endlessly deep and soulless pits they traverse their way along textures of sandpaper--sting so deep-- a familiar, time-worn trail that it makes love with time has halted cruelly, tauntingly, though it is ever-moving and stops for no lovers

{oh-so-casually} when all is right in the world and gradually, oh-so-casually, life creeps and crawls along and the surface remains unbidden but secretly thoughts are rotting, dying away you've got to wonder: can we take things at face value or is there more? have we created a false reality in which things can be comfortable, things can be sensible? but circumstance lulls us into a false sense of security, mayhaps, to swallow us alive at the end of the road. afterall, sweetest, all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. ever was there a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? potentially, possibly, particularly and without preced