| They are taunting me.
Toying with my life as if I have nine of them.
How much time do you think I have?
Mourning over ghosts that broke my heart and still waiting for someone to let me be lose.
I cannot live in a lie.
We will have fun together.
Pastoral leadership was not my ideal 18th year of life.
Could I not just be free from it all?
Do what I want?
I dont think Im sure what that is today.
Well, another day of the working cycle and then yet another 100 people to nicely smile to without caring.
Genuine blood pulsates in me but only comes circulating when lifes' dull edge gets the better of me.
Lord deliver, please. |
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| Call me a columbine flower if you may,
To die for or today?
I died a little past May.
The count of my live posies are but a few,
But I hold those close to my heart like I do to you.
The schematics don't buy love,
Nor intelligence, nor anything material a woman might have to offer.
And as I search for the Soul of the Earth,
Something if known everyone claimed dying for,
I will bang symbols and chimes and refuse to play the silly game I mimed
And Ill take pictures to put on my walls
And my future will be at stake
And oh my darling youll have to break what you thought were feathers and bells became how you fell into this box.
This cage you cant climb over
But someone will set you free
And your wings will soon fly
And your pain will be on me. |
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| its not that im werid..you mistake me.
dont let the sunshine go down without telling me your what i did.. |
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| I tipped my bottle one day but nothing came out.
Something has been spinning in me oh god what could it be..
You are the next in line. What has happened to me that is. Jackson or Job once beat a cool beat with two pairs and a single.
Sounded lovely they did until the riot. It began subtly just like mine.
Begin to notice the persian rug had a kink. Someone had been lookin. Looking through their furniture and called bs.
Someone thought their face would peel so he took a shot.
The bundle of flowers in my heart has wilted..Or are they just drying?
Someone said a loud cry of sanitized freedom would crack screened cellar slide shuts but I thought only bloody murder would play the better occupant.
and then there were some..
Why must I always prove there's another way? Iv gotten to accustom to lowering the blinds at night to make a righteous answer of your boils and pains Job.
I just do not know you. I just do not know you.
Braid my beard now. The haughty fluid is dripping from my pores and I need a release from these straggled dead things hanging from me.
If only I could have that choice. The choice to hide myself among a piece of death and it cover my present emotions. I often wonder if even a blessed smile might even be better off unsaid or just..covered..up..
Please tell me.
Do I want a man? or a manservant? I'm not sure the difference at this point. But whoever he is, whatever he does, let his addiction be more than questioned affliction unfortunately showing itself proverbial in my presence. Let him never choose to buy persian rugs and let him call me more than just a lady.
Let his lips speak tenderly like hot oil massaging my back. Let these dry flowers be spread all over a floor, possibly taking shape of a tall and limber tree. and let that tree sway beautifully back and forth to the beat of our hearts.
No more betrayal.
No more insanity.
We don't have to work no mo
The lavender skies will take the dust off our rugs and the millstones off our chests and clear the scars from our face. Our face.
A little light will come. Our bottle soon pour
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| I just wanna fall in love.
I only want. I only want to walk with cozy socks and pjs and mosey.
Oh I am often a fool, with no idea about love or friendship.
I miss my sister and brother. I want to be and just be and have a special place for me to go.
But I must go on. I must keep forth-ward-ish? What happened to me for what I was and/or me for what I am?
I used to be something and now I am not? Is this what you think in your brain every day as you cross me on the way to the toilet?
This is my haven.
Two blind men walking on either side of me. Waiting for them snaps to be on without seeing who is in the middle. Love and life and victory stands only when the man in the back of my garage says it does. I go to him when I need help and he points me to a carpark. Though I wish that radiance didnt have to be so messy. AND radiance takes so much time; half the time it seems as though these feelings are incarcerated by a thick and vintage liquid dropping from my knees down down.
This is my haven.
I stand here amid all noisy gongs and shout but for some reason the gregorian chants I now come in reasonable distance to hear it overriding urgent cry of a homeless gurl. How vulnerable must you get for a guy like you to like a guy..or girl..or woman like me?
All these words seem pretty simple; almost like a small child ineloquently speaking its mind towards an audience of band guys that will never understand.
Ode to a bread crumb. Yea I say it will never experience.
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