2010-04-26
jesus prayed to me.
Here and there, there and here
My paranoia tries to offer me a price in exchange for my comfort, but I won't pay any price that is greater than its actual worth.
Besides, I can't convince myself to stop giving my anxiety a garden for which in it can flourish, and well my anxiety - it never fails to give me this sort of 'high' in return.
Call me psychotic, because crazy is as crazy does, and crazy is a title in which I have done nothing less of earning it.
So I'll collect my gains and mourn my losses, and get higher than you're going to get from sitting in your god forsaken churches.
There is this priest who lives by preaching his creed inside the walls of my head. He tells me I'm the second messiah, and I don't serve as well as I do alive as I would dead.
2010-04-24
actually, finally, gradually.
One day, this won't be new anymore . . .
One day it's going to be him and not you anymore. The intensity will dull and that is when I'll call you and say that the meaning has left.
When you go on and start out with more than you can only ultimately end up with less.
I hurt just as much and I spent my time crying just as hard, did you really think that I thought this was a good way to end?
One day it's going to be him and not you anymore. The intensity will dull and that is when I'll call you and say that the meaning has left.
When you go on and start out with more than you can only ultimately end up with less.
I hurt just as much and I spent my time crying just as hard, did you really think that I thought this was a good way to end?
2010-04-12
2010-04-10
leave nothing to be desired.
If you can succeed at controlling me with your anti-psychotics,
we can then move forward to a new me that is a bit less erratic
Underneath the space of every door, somewhere empty in between the wood and the floor, I can lay eyes on myself all wrapped up in corners.
Is it her face, or is it my face, and who the fuck in the name of all published faulty God's do I belong with.
Pretty little girl, why so ugly?
Lying in foreign beds gets words rushing in and out of my head, I dread oh I fucking dread, the feeling of waking up in this house- so I untangle what there is of me from all of you, and I beg myself to sleep while lying on a couch.
Your breath was heavy in my face when you were invading me below my waist, so I closed my eyes and felt your weight, and me beneath.
Wine feelings and Vodka behavior, just never sat right with the Beer goggles already working against my favor.
There are just so many places I can go when I extend myself permission to feel a little something for someone.
Or maybe it is just that I have a line up of personalities I'm switching to and from every single time somebody goes and turns me on.
Do not take this wrong, I am in no way confiding or reaching a revelation,
I'm just speaking out loud because I'm hoping those devils in my head will hear this.
A boy of many names came on and told me that my secrets fed his sanity sane, and I told him I'm glad he took touching me into an opportunity to have something for his soul to eat.
At these times you reminisce about how the Sun used to just kiss your skin, but were you ever really scarred of breaking beneath it or did you just give in? When you think deep, does it too pick at your mind mentally? Because I know me and I know how loud the dictionary can sing, and I found thinking about the words took away from the feeling. And when push comes to shove, and braces into kick, we all know I need all of the feeling I can get.
PS I would kill all I love for those earrings.
we can then move forward to a new me that is a bit less erratic
Underneath the space of every door, somewhere empty in between the wood and the floor, I can lay eyes on myself all wrapped up in corners.
Is it her face, or is it my face, and who the fuck in the name of all published faulty God's do I belong with.
Pretty little girl, why so ugly?
Lying in foreign beds gets words rushing in and out of my head, I dread oh I fucking dread, the feeling of waking up in this house- so I untangle what there is of me from all of you, and I beg myself to sleep while lying on a couch.
Your breath was heavy in my face when you were invading me below my waist, so I closed my eyes and felt your weight, and me beneath.
Wine feelings and Vodka behavior, just never sat right with the Beer goggles already working against my favor.
There are just so many places I can go when I extend myself permission to feel a little something for someone.
Or maybe it is just that I have a line up of personalities I'm switching to and from every single time somebody goes and turns me on.
Do not take this wrong, I am in no way confiding or reaching a revelation,
I'm just speaking out loud because I'm hoping those devils in my head will hear this.
A boy of many names came on and told me that my secrets fed his sanity sane, and I told him I'm glad he took touching me into an opportunity to have something for his soul to eat.
At these times you reminisce about how the Sun used to just kiss your skin, but were you ever really scarred of breaking beneath it or did you just give in? When you think deep, does it too pick at your mind mentally? Because I know me and I know how loud the dictionary can sing, and I found thinking about the words took away from the feeling. And when push comes to shove, and braces into kick, we all know I need all of the feeling I can get.
PS I would kill all I love for those earrings.
de rigueur.
Are the voices mine, or are they yours? Are they ours? Because they are getting really fucking loud . .
I am the second messiah, among other things of equally unfortunate nature. I am the daughter of all of your sons, and a vicious secret held to confinement by your beloved elite. I was the wife of every man before, after, and beside you- and more will be here to come. They'll expose me in a statistic, but you could never bargain with them to show you my face. Exiled as an image, but sought after to be an addition to a percentage. I guess they really hold heavy belief to safety being a thing only achieved in numbers.
This, they will tell you, is the very voice that gave the push that made those who were mild neurotics into severe psychotics, and then back again into some gray, gray area in between. But come on now, it wouldn't be fair to say that I am that underlying purpose who will drive you against your every means of will. I'm merely just a growing child.
I see that the temple shames you, but you keep coming back in hopes that one day the temple will instead just accept you, or at least give in and save you. Since words are cheap, when in need - authors write their banks dry and cleaned, and wait on pins and needles for the investment to come back multiplied and further redeemed.
It's a very filthy world, our dead are living through our memory and our living are dead in the basic sense of the meaning.
This is when I hear them call our bodies churches, to which we are constantly rewriting the principals of it's religion. Should we hold off for a promised future love, or give in and just fucking feel ?
I won't feed off of what your politically tapped one tracked minds throw at me, because I know THERE IS NO HAPPY MEDIUM.
So now what will become of me, that I can't adhere to the faith of my father.
Or kneel to the floor and repeat the words dictated by the robe in charge.
I cannot swallow the body of Christ-
for if it is a body, that makes me a cannibal
and if you say it's just bread, then I'd be ingesting food from the madly delusional.
I am the second messiah, among other things of equally unfortunate nature. I am the daughter of all of your sons, and a vicious secret held to confinement by your beloved elite. I was the wife of every man before, after, and beside you- and more will be here to come. They'll expose me in a statistic, but you could never bargain with them to show you my face. Exiled as an image, but sought after to be an addition to a percentage. I guess they really hold heavy belief to safety being a thing only achieved in numbers.
This, they will tell you, is the very voice that gave the push that made those who were mild neurotics into severe psychotics, and then back again into some gray, gray area in between. But come on now, it wouldn't be fair to say that I am that underlying purpose who will drive you against your every means of will. I'm merely just a growing child.
I see that the temple shames you, but you keep coming back in hopes that one day the temple will instead just accept you, or at least give in and save you. Since words are cheap, when in need - authors write their banks dry and cleaned, and wait on pins and needles for the investment to come back multiplied and further redeemed.
It's a very filthy world, our dead are living through our memory and our living are dead in the basic sense of the meaning.
This is when I hear them call our bodies churches, to which we are constantly rewriting the principals of it's religion. Should we hold off for a promised future love, or give in and just fucking feel ?
I won't feed off of what your politically tapped one tracked minds throw at me, because I know THERE IS NO HAPPY MEDIUM.
So now what will become of me, that I can't adhere to the faith of my father.
Or kneel to the floor and repeat the words dictated by the robe in charge.
I cannot swallow the body of Christ-
for if it is a body, that makes me a cannibal
and if you say it's just bread, then I'd be ingesting food from the madly delusional.
study history, grow strong
History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it
" We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out "
" Everyone has his day, and some days just last longer than others "
" We shall show mercy, but we will not ask for it "
" There is no such thing as public opinion. There is only published opinion. "
" I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly. "
" A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on. "
" I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me "
" We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out "
" Everyone has his day, and some days just last longer than others "
" We shall show mercy, but we will not ask for it "
" There is no such thing as public opinion. There is only published opinion. "
" I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly. "
" A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on. "
" I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me "
2010-04-09
counting minutes like they are seconds
I've heard that there is this certain and particular little femme,
who is look out through eyes that have this kind of natural purifying lens.
Gathering the good like it's a harvest treasure, and facing all that is sin as though blocked, or maybe blind to it, like using an umbrella for the simple purpose of shield from the gloomiest weather. She'd rather marvel the rainbow that occurred as a result, than lament the rain that in return had to pour onto us.
A morning wasted fully- but that's okay, that's fine, and it's completely dandy- because it's in the afternoon that she is in her rising glory.
While she's not as educated as she could be, she does her best to fit herself to whatever it is she's lusting when she says, "I want this, I like this, I need this". Her aspirations lead to academic paths, as well as to these dreams of becoming something like a global Pocahontas.
A beautiful Mother Theresa, a colorful Winston Churchill.
It's a sad sentence to adhere to, to only be able to live out just one monogamous life, especially since she just won't be nothing but them all.
On the weekend when he would rather crack a bottle, she'd be happier if he would instead just crack a smile, but you can't expect too much from any other regardless of the commitment to each other.
You know this, and it'll fill up the disappointment when you want to talk, and he just wants to kiss.
It's a fact of knowledge in the common and in the brain dead, that the flowers are beautiful and the flowers lay in their bed.
The flowers reflect humanity, the ones with obvious potential are nurtured, and those picked are always the ones with impeccable beauty. Give up on the ones that take a little more time fussing over, and poison what we have evaluated as weeds. Lastly, always introduce some on-the-market, foreign-to-the-body chemicals to recreate the lacking into something better. Practiced by the mother and the gardener, and as also easy to observe in the practice of the psychologist and the doctor. But no matter what circumstances surface in the maintenance of the situation, one is to be concerned over having absolute control of all aspects of the process of evolution.
Well you can pick the flower from the ground and put it in your kitchen, but the flower will never change it's necessities nor its manner, no matter what the environment you decide to place it in. The little boy in the suburbs needs quiet to sleep, and routine kisses with hugs. The little boy in Sierra Leone needs just as much, but he can't sleep or get his kiss until the guns aiming at his father stop.
The femme, well she knows as much as anyone could know that survival is always plausible, whether it be in heavenly homes, or devastated scraps built of tree and stone. You can live without, but one will never entirely give up and submit to adapt, because the living has a pulse harder than the dead, and the living are just so much stronger than that.
Love is better in it's purest form. When the reason it spawns and starts to grow isn't there, and it flourishes without the acknowledgment of consciousness even being aware. Loving freely will save the soul from leaving.
The soul needs something to stay for, and you need something to live at all costs for.
She still is yet to put her finger on the right outlet, whether it be occupational or a humanly figure, but so far she's all good with treating any encounter like it is the answer, and it might be the thing to influence and win. Words will trick the mind to believing there had never been a wait, carving out the inner sinner from the cited saint.
Though religion is beneath her, her conclusions- or maybe these things are possibly false delusions - brought her to have faith that love of whatever & whomever will come, and when it will come, it will come and find her.
Science may be logically correct, and it is widely perceived that a stance of neutral is the political face to make claim for the public to accept. But she's knows investing in wander equals meaning, and in the end that is the creed that will lavish onto the mind the heaviest and the best.
Anything to keep the void filled, and in return keep the void from existing, and keep the void away. So long emptiness; I have but no cares for you, and it so happens I hope you have a terrible and a horrible fucking day. Because I can't have a will against what I give no way.
With so many highs yet to come to me, so I taste their flavor, and so many lows that are yet in store for me to wallow in and me to bear, why turn off the lights when they can be altered to dim, and why throw it all in and sink, if I can swim?
"The nice thing about being a heroin addict is you either have no problems, or just one big one"
who is look out through eyes that have this kind of natural purifying lens.
Gathering the good like it's a harvest treasure, and facing all that is sin as though blocked, or maybe blind to it, like using an umbrella for the simple purpose of shield from the gloomiest weather. She'd rather marvel the rainbow that occurred as a result, than lament the rain that in return had to pour onto us.
A morning wasted fully- but that's okay, that's fine, and it's completely dandy- because it's in the afternoon that she is in her rising glory.
While she's not as educated as she could be, she does her best to fit herself to whatever it is she's lusting when she says, "I want this, I like this, I need this". Her aspirations lead to academic paths, as well as to these dreams of becoming something like a global Pocahontas.
A beautiful Mother Theresa, a colorful Winston Churchill.
It's a sad sentence to adhere to, to only be able to live out just one monogamous life, especially since she just won't be nothing but them all.
On the weekend when he would rather crack a bottle, she'd be happier if he would instead just crack a smile, but you can't expect too much from any other regardless of the commitment to each other.
You know this, and it'll fill up the disappointment when you want to talk, and he just wants to kiss.
It's a fact of knowledge in the common and in the brain dead, that the flowers are beautiful and the flowers lay in their bed.
The flowers reflect humanity, the ones with obvious potential are nurtured, and those picked are always the ones with impeccable beauty. Give up on the ones that take a little more time fussing over, and poison what we have evaluated as weeds. Lastly, always introduce some on-the-market, foreign-to-the-body chemicals to recreate the lacking into something better. Practiced by the mother and the gardener, and as also easy to observe in the practice of the psychologist and the doctor. But no matter what circumstances surface in the maintenance of the situation, one is to be concerned over having absolute control of all aspects of the process of evolution.
Well you can pick the flower from the ground and put it in your kitchen, but the flower will never change it's necessities nor its manner, no matter what the environment you decide to place it in. The little boy in the suburbs needs quiet to sleep, and routine kisses with hugs. The little boy in Sierra Leone needs just as much, but he can't sleep or get his kiss until the guns aiming at his father stop.
The femme, well she knows as much as anyone could know that survival is always plausible, whether it be in heavenly homes, or devastated scraps built of tree and stone. You can live without, but one will never entirely give up and submit to adapt, because the living has a pulse harder than the dead, and the living are just so much stronger than that.
Love is better in it's purest form. When the reason it spawns and starts to grow isn't there, and it flourishes without the acknowledgment of consciousness even being aware. Loving freely will save the soul from leaving.
The soul needs something to stay for, and you need something to live at all costs for.
She still is yet to put her finger on the right outlet, whether it be occupational or a humanly figure, but so far she's all good with treating any encounter like it is the answer, and it might be the thing to influence and win. Words will trick the mind to believing there had never been a wait, carving out the inner sinner from the cited saint.
Though religion is beneath her, her conclusions- or maybe these things are possibly false delusions - brought her to have faith that love of whatever & whomever will come, and when it will come, it will come and find her.
Science may be logically correct, and it is widely perceived that a stance of neutral is the political face to make claim for the public to accept. But she's knows investing in wander equals meaning, and in the end that is the creed that will lavish onto the mind the heaviest and the best.
Anything to keep the void filled, and in return keep the void from existing, and keep the void away. So long emptiness; I have but no cares for you, and it so happens I hope you have a terrible and a horrible fucking day. Because I can't have a will against what I give no way.
With so many highs yet to come to me, so I taste their flavor, and so many lows that are yet in store for me to wallow in and me to bear, why turn off the lights when they can be altered to dim, and why throw it all in and sink, if I can swim?
"The nice thing about being a heroin addict is you either have no problems, or just one big one"
maybe there will be a better tomorrow
I`m burned by the morning coming under Monday, desperate and a fiend for a pick-me-up or two in the noon of all my Wednesdays, and come Friday evening I`m on my hands & knees praying to each & every God that I`ll make it to see Sunday.
What draws me silver, will paint you gold.
Well goodbye high, and oh, well hey and hello low.
Jesus fucking whore christ, would I just love to stop thinking for a little while.
Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that when you watch South Park drunk you can fully understand everything coming out of that little orange fucker Kenny`s fucking bitch mouth.
FUCK B U T T E R S.
I`d say fuck Kyle & you know, fuck the Jews, but I guess that wouldn't be right because I descend from some.
Smoke from your knowledge, and I`ll collect all my ideas from my nose.
You can chase dragons for a little something new, and I`ll pick the vein hoping to dig up something old.
I`m going through an emotional fucking Columbine,
but all will be well, and I will feel safe, as long as I make sure that I stay inside the lines.
For all of us that our society has classified as` insane`- it`s costly to feel sober & it`s free to feel high.
A heavy dollar for a bottle of Seroquel, a hefty and big price for a hand of Concerta,
& you just got to spit em out to have tea with Shakespeare all night.
What they don`t know can`t very well hurt them.
Linger with me and mingle with me, do as you will, as long as you can say that you`re at least trying to save me.
And if they bleed my face dry & I run out of smokes to sell, are you going to still hold me closely or are you going to seek out someone who can still provide you with a kick that`s going to make you crawl.
What draws me silver, will paint you gold.
Well goodbye high, and oh, well hey and hello low.
Jesus fucking whore christ, would I just love to stop thinking for a little while.
Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that when you watch South Park drunk you can fully understand everything coming out of that little orange fucker Kenny`s fucking bitch mouth.
FUCK B U T T E R S.
I`d say fuck Kyle & you know, fuck the Jews, but I guess that wouldn't be right because I descend from some.
Smoke from your knowledge, and I`ll collect all my ideas from my nose.
You can chase dragons for a little something new, and I`ll pick the vein hoping to dig up something old.
I`m going through an emotional fucking Columbine,
but all will be well, and I will feel safe, as long as I make sure that I stay inside the lines.
For all of us that our society has classified as` insane`- it`s costly to feel sober & it`s free to feel high.
A heavy dollar for a bottle of Seroquel, a hefty and big price for a hand of Concerta,
& you just got to spit em out to have tea with Shakespeare all night.
What they don`t know can`t very well hurt them.
Linger with me and mingle with me, do as you will, as long as you can say that you`re at least trying to save me.
And if they bleed my face dry & I run out of smokes to sell, are you going to still hold me closely or are you going to seek out someone who can still provide you with a kick that`s going to make you crawl.
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