I'm tired. Too tired to live, provided "live" is even a reasonable definition of this once optimistic pseudo saint's rapid plummit into unconscious consciousness and half breathen undays of nothing remotely useful in justifying my seeingly absent purpose for remaining alive.
It's amusing, the closed curtain cinema that plays and replays in the mind of one numb from the sting of this bumblesociety. Amidst the ringing sings songs of voices and faces in chant and smile once upon a time ago- reminding and fading from scene to scene as the minutes of unreality pass aside me. A face and a body of this girl- rather vulpine, she- I might add... and much closer than the distance leads one to believe...
She is in the lead of the film, if I failed to mention. Scene by scene it returns and replays as yet another turn cracks my bitten spine unmoved for a week this day alone. I suppose I should get up, but what's the point? Reside the point... I saw her once, or I think at least- given the days are weeks long now that will has been replaced by a vertigo opaque enough to blind an angel or two. You should have seen her, you really should have. I swear, if my wilted chamber that never held my no heart could recognize an emotion I'm not capeable of experiencing it would have risen the pit to beat long enough to skip a few.
Every now and then it happens- that you meet something truly ethereal... and blindsided you has no way of fighting the paralyzing fear placed almost mockingly before you. Nothing one could say would speak what is felt when you melt at the sight of someone who sweeps you. Only the thought that it sounds so insincere despite how factual it is in the stillborn unreality we all so callously feign. Just before it can end it never begins. What's left is the stirring emotional void, dark and pungeant of "what if's" left haunting, still only a tap away. sad, really. But one of millions. Did I mention I'm tired? I think too tired to live anymore...
It's amusing, the closed curtain cinema that plays and replays in the mind of one numb from the sting of this bumblesociety. Amidst the ringing sings songs of voices and faces in chant and smile once upon a time ago- reminding and fading from scene to scene as the minutes of unreality pass aside me. A face and a body of this girl- rather vulpine, she- I might add... and much closer than the distance leads one to believe...
She is in the lead of the film, if I failed to mention. Scene by scene it returns and replays as yet another turn cracks my bitten spine unmoved for a week this day alone. I suppose I should get up, but what's the point? Reside the point... I saw her once, or I think at least- given the days are weeks long now that will has been replaced by a vertigo opaque enough to blind an angel or two. You should have seen her, you really should have. I swear, if my wilted chamber that never held my no heart could recognize an emotion I'm not capeable of experiencing it would have risen the pit to beat long enough to skip a few.
Every now and then it happens- that you meet something truly ethereal... and blindsided you has no way of fighting the paralyzing fear placed almost mockingly before you. Nothing one could say would speak what is felt when you melt at the sight of someone who sweeps you. Only the thought that it sounds so insincere despite how factual it is in the stillborn unreality we all so callously feign. Just before it can end it never begins. What's left is the stirring emotional void, dark and pungeant of "what if's" left haunting, still only a tap away. sad, really. But one of millions. Did I mention I'm tired? I think too tired to live anymore...
mistersatan:
Well, he had a lot more going for him that I do... he was an artist, you know...