I suppose I haven't been writing what I normally write in here, but its like, sometimes I get so that I feel in between... invisable... very invisable...
Show me nothingness
Flash.
yeah, read Invisable Monsters by Chuck Palahnuik.
amazing book. Really amazing.
Do we really know what it feels like to live? Everything is centered around this supposed fun-type life, but sometimes I wonder. It's like... God, I don't know. You have to be pretty, you have to be popular, you have to have a million people wanting to be you, or it doesn't count.
I don't think it counts until you know what it feels like to capture the moment and suspend it in time, watching your art unfurl and take flight in an audience's heart. Have I lost it yet?
Blood drips off a single rose,
beautiful in perception
hideous if one would only take in the meaning.
A forget-me-not of a gift
left with the power of fear.
The rose is no different
than the bruises on the face,
arms,
neck.
Where do your eyes fall on this murderous scene?
Do you take in the darkness,
or perhaps the moon casting a single beam of light
across the fallen angel's body?
Or maybe your mind takes in the brokenness
of the moment,
seemingly suspended in time.
Or do your eyes see the blood,
ever red,
the pool broken only by the body and the rose,
clutched in a hand.
Clutched as if the silky helpless petals
contained enough strength
to lend in this battle against pain.
*gasp* look, one of my poems. At the moment, my moment, everything feels stopped, the motion has lost it's fluidness, the light has gotten darker... and people I thought were my friends whisper behind my back... not a big deal... right? who really cares if the crazy one feels hurt. I miss M, and he's only a few classrooms away... He's wearing neon-green today *little smile* not at all a bad colour on him... anyway, I shall flee and fell my demons as the cries rise to greet me.
Adieu, Je'taime *bows*
Dark FaerieŠ
Do we really know what it feels like to live? Everything is centered around this supposed fun-type life, but sometimes I wonder. It's like... God, I don't know. You have to be pretty, you have to be popular, you have to have a million people wanting to be you, or it doesn't count.
I don't think it counts until you know what it feels like to capture the moment and suspend it in time, watching your art unfurl and take flight in an audience's heart. Have I lost it yet?
Blood drips off a single rose,
beautiful in perception
hideous if one would only take in the meaning.
A forget-me-not of a gift
left with the power of fear.
The rose is no different
than the bruises on the face,
arms,
neck.
Where do your eyes fall on this murderous scene?
Do you take in the darkness,
or perhaps the moon casting a single beam of light
across the fallen angel's body?
Or maybe your mind takes in the brokenness
of the moment,
seemingly suspended in time.
Or do your eyes see the blood,
ever red,
the pool broken only by the body and the rose,
clutched in a hand.
Clutched as if the silky helpless petals
contained enough strength
to lend in this battle against pain.
*gasp* look, one of my poems. At the moment, my moment, everything feels stopped, the motion has lost it's fluidness, the light has gotten darker... and people I thought were my friends whisper behind my back... not a big deal... right? who really cares if the crazy one feels hurt. I miss M, and he's only a few classrooms away... He's wearing neon-green today *little smile* not at all a bad colour on him... anyway, I shall flee and fell my demons as the cries rise to greet me.
Adieu, Je'taime *bows*
Dark FaerieŠ