meets goodbye lenin without the political climate
twisted by a tornado of guilt.
the mess was dormant
(or is it actually invisible)
i dug it up now
(or did i actually just sniff it in the airtight minds) but
either way,
its out there in the wind and sun.
why do i so wanna do something
to (mentally only) hurt myself right now?
"There are moments,
... when you regret being.
... when you have nothing but dread, hatred, and contempt. For yourself. For the world.
... when you look into the mirror, look at the devastatingly ugly face that is glaring back at you. and you just want to rake, to claw, to slash the face. The sickening sensation in your stomach burns, and burns, and burns, as you watch the face being torn apart. The blood drips, and drips, and drips, one drop at a time until the already red carpet is wholly absorbed into the color of perfectly even crimson. Great! The crime is for you to keep and for none to find out. Haha, as if somebody cares to find!
... when you know you are running deeper and deeper into the dark forest. You were born under a deadly curse that drains, and drains, and drains you of love and joy and trust, a deadly curse that penetrates you with menace and terror. You crawl on the leaves, grope the hard, rough trunks, and cry for help. Up high, the foliage is flirting with the wind. Down here, the nocturnal clock is chiming. Everything is minding its own business. Everything! Except you, the pathetic and injured brute. Everything! Except you. arent you so ashamed? Yes, you, the disgraced, worthless wretch.
... something has been begging to die for so long. Every piece of it has been dying for so long; yet it is still here. The breaths are erratic and heavy; yet they are not final. The eyes are absent and oppressed; yet they are never, for a second, are blessed to close...”
there are moments... - Saturday July 1, 2006 - 08:42pm (EDT)
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