On nights like these:
I wish my eyelids fall, that I would not be fixated on the monitor in front of me, or the television across the room. I wish that my ears were lulled to sleep by a graceful siren, never to be woken again, and not assaulted by late night TV, and the misfiring air conditioner. I wish that you were here, a co-conspirator in my madness, a friendly ear, a loving embrace, a warm spot in my bed, a hand to hold, a witness to it all. I wish that you were anyone, but something tangible, not just an idea conjured up by too many network sitcoms, the kind I never watched. The speakers are humming now, alive with the electricity that surrounds us all, the things that I can't see, that we all know are there. Sometimes we catch glimpses. We call it faith, we call it love, we call it fate, God, the Devil, its all the same, its all intangible. Concepts that we were programmed with at birth. We give it a name, and it exists. So what is real? What is tangible? We're all "watchers"? But where are the "dreamers"? Where are the "lovers"? Everyone I know watches life go by, and talks about living everyday like it's their last. I'm no different. I'm as guilty as you, shall we walk to gallows arm in arm? Singing a funeral march for the foolish? How come when I'm awake, everyone else is asleep. When I think they dream. When they wake, I toss, I turn, but I do not dream. I know that no one will make it this far, but I'm urged to press on. To persevere. To believe that each new day brings new opportunities and the chance for change. I know that someone, somewhere, feels the way I do, and that as a part of Fate's design, we shall never meet. So we soldier on through the night, behind locked doors, closed windows, broken hearts, heavy heads, tired eyes, and calloused fingers. This is for anyone who's ever had a thought in the dark, and felt to ashamed to acknowledge it for fear of what people might think of them. I will be the crier of your apocalypse. I will be the fifth horsemen in your private Armageddon. I can't finish this, because I don't know where it started. We all have a beginning and an end. We all get a chance to taste the air on nights like these. To see the sun come up, and start a new day. To cross ourselves and thank God we made it though another one, alone in the dark...
I wish my eyelids fall, that I would not be fixated on the monitor in front of me, or the television across the room. I wish that my ears were lulled to sleep by a graceful siren, never to be woken again, and not assaulted by late night TV, and the misfiring air conditioner. I wish that you were here, a co-conspirator in my madness, a friendly ear, a loving embrace, a warm spot in my bed, a hand to hold, a witness to it all. I wish that you were anyone, but something tangible, not just an idea conjured up by too many network sitcoms, the kind I never watched. The speakers are humming now, alive with the electricity that surrounds us all, the things that I can't see, that we all know are there. Sometimes we catch glimpses. We call it faith, we call it love, we call it fate, God, the Devil, its all the same, its all intangible. Concepts that we were programmed with at birth. We give it a name, and it exists. So what is real? What is tangible? We're all "watchers"? But where are the "dreamers"? Where are the "lovers"? Everyone I know watches life go by, and talks about living everyday like it's their last. I'm no different. I'm as guilty as you, shall we walk to gallows arm in arm? Singing a funeral march for the foolish? How come when I'm awake, everyone else is asleep. When I think they dream. When they wake, I toss, I turn, but I do not dream. I know that no one will make it this far, but I'm urged to press on. To persevere. To believe that each new day brings new opportunities and the chance for change. I know that someone, somewhere, feels the way I do, and that as a part of Fate's design, we shall never meet. So we soldier on through the night, behind locked doors, closed windows, broken hearts, heavy heads, tired eyes, and calloused fingers. This is for anyone who's ever had a thought in the dark, and felt to ashamed to acknowledge it for fear of what people might think of them. I will be the crier of your apocalypse. I will be the fifth horsemen in your private Armageddon. I can't finish this, because I don't know where it started. We all have a beginning and an end. We all get a chance to taste the air on nights like these. To see the sun come up, and start a new day. To cross ourselves and thank God we made it though another one, alone in the dark...
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Are you still all moving and without internet...???? I had to change my name btw....but happy happy happy birthday, as my sister said when I turned 26, "You're now more than half way to the end." What a bitchy thing to say.......................
In other developments you should read me and Mark's comments to each other back and forth via myspace. He also left me a really thoughtful testimonial. You'll laugh.