| I am really beginning not to care... that thin line between being true to myself and becoming self-destructive.
I'm letting xanga go.
For good. |
| |
| drawing a blank.
the day was lacking a realness to the touch.
implications traced my ear as i tried to sleep.
i stood in a thigh-high puddle of desolation.
again.
rippling my fate into a macroscopic conclusion.
grim that it is irrefutable.
que sera sera...? |
| |
| if only i had seen today through dated glass.
a tint to every emotion.
dust brushed over the whole scene.
the past in the present might grab my attention. |
| |
| I tried to look into the stars.
To participate in the past.
To know I was not alone.
Ultimately, I needed it to be enveloped in calm.
Urgency weakened my height; forcing a cage over my eyes.
Emotion still has not wised itself to convenience.
Was I truly afraid?
Let me once again see an accurate portrayal of the salty skies and paralysing proof.
Fathom my dreams in watercolors.
When it all goes away what will forever leave behind?
Tears that blind.
Ground into nothingness with oracle bones. |
| |
| We live for the pain, for without it what would we hide? |
| |
