PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

tired of crying over the tearless

Tuesday, Jan. 29, 2002

I’m thoroughly convinced that all love ends…..and I don’t want to win this don’t talk about “him” bet because…….OMG just because. If you’re smart enough you can figure out why I don’t want a new layout done by asi9dood aka Ohmyachinhiney I liked the old one better dood!

And besides….I need to vent…I need to talk to something about it. I have no one to talk to now. So I need to ….

I want someone that wants me more than his need for oxygen. I want someone that will give up something…not everything for me…just something. I want someone that loves me back tenfold for every emotion I have.

I want to have the strength to go out and get in my car and drive straight headlong into a tree or some concrete divider. I know I’ll go write some prolific words on a road at 4 a.m. with spray paint and then hit a cement wall right there…..a PoeticaL end. Like maybe “love dies here…” Only I’m too weak to ever do it. I just stand there looking at the wall crying like a fool. I can’t even do that right.

Even more than anything I want to be happy all alone. No one holding the strings to that happiness yo yo. I want to play with my own yo yo all by myself like a child with a new toy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know this major bout of angst and depression this ghost of an unperfect rhyme.
I know I’m having a very difficult time with everything. I’m losing my mind in slow time.
I want dandelions and daisies and cold lemonade
and all I have is Splenda and chicken and some mental mindless daze.
I’m wrapped up in moments that were too good to miss
and now I’m lost in feelings that I don’t want to feel just like this.
I’m a firefly without the flame that allows me to dip through the sky.
I’m a wish on a moment of a dream about something that just made me so high.
This love has been a mental ride that is so magnified by the twisted vision through a screen
Every reality becomes a fantastical journey of an imperfect moment that feels like a dream
I’ve held out my hands a thousand different ways always pulling them back in towards me
Looking deep into the journey of a David Bowieless maze
Fields in my palms spreading over the lost days like unconquered miles
Far and vast just to realize their still always empty, my embattled trials
I’ve danced on the glass only ever sketching tulips with my smile
I’ve cried rainbows in the glow and just held tight to everything if only for awhile…
So long I’ve been on this ferris wheel, caught got in the wind at the top
Lost myself on the carousel just hoping….
always hoping this time the pretty music would never have to stop
I’ve loved like a lion in the jungles of so much lost time
I’ve wiped tears all over the pages of long forgotten rhymes
I’ve wanted you like purest of want that’s always wanting even itself
I’ve laid open my soul while you mangled me into becoming someone else
There’s so many things that feel like daggers swimming in my veins
Onions and bad hair days and even Jackson won’t sing away these pains
I’m a mountain that’s been trying to move over a rock filled stream
Lost so lost in what I did and what is it all supposed to ever fucking mean?
I love you and I hate you and I don’t know which one will win in the end
I just know I can’t anymore and I won’t let you keep torturing me
When we are a straight rigid line of lost words that just never find
Their way into becoming a melody that doesn’t have to keep losing
its magical moment of compromise that’s a beautiful bend.
You’re like that really long poem I keep writing on pages and pages
The alphabet fucking each of its letters never wanting to find anything
Remotely like “the end”.
Every love I’ve ever known has taken away its pieces of me.
And now I’m putting my hands in my chest and there’s just an echo of what used to be….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What really sucks is I know “he” got up this morning and he exercised, and he ate his no carb omelet and he put his shoes on and he got in his truck and he’s sitting at work…just like every other day…just like I was “someone that never happened”. Just like I knew it would be. And I’m not the same, and I can’t pretend something good came from any of this. All it ever was …it was just a wish.

The only thing that can ever make it feel better is the very knife that cut you. And I have too many scars and no more pretty flesh left to wound.

-PoeticaL


He always was one giant fucking contradiction….
10:25 a.m. ::
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