It's raining again,
This time a little more densely.
My head full of feelings,
Yet wondering why all of these are melancholy?
Does this world really needs to be this cold?
Or is it just me, questioning it way too unnecessarily bold?
Load thunders were heard,
Did anyone else's ears perceived it?
Haha! no for sure! it was drop silent, all inside me.
If it was really raining outside,
Why were drops of water rolling down my cheeks?
If it was really thundering outside,
Why were some of there sounds silent, crackling just inside me?
Rain long calmed off,
Thunders got silent and stopped,
Then why were still some thunders crackling, no one hearing it because,
Sometimes I wish my back didn't hurt as much when I drive;
Sometimes I wish I hadn't had to drive to Hamilton and back tonight.
Sometimes I wish I could still light up while waiting for Tessa so we could go home;
Sometimes I wish I could have, one, just one;
Sometimes I wish the addiction wouldn't lie to me.
Sometimes I wish Christmas was already over;
Sometimes I wish I was a child and Christmas was still magic.
Sometimes I wish I'd never started smoking;
Sometimes I wish I was starting my quit next week.
Sometimes I wish I could have, one, just one;
Sometimes I wish the addiction wouldn't lie to me.
Sometimes I wish my friends on here wouldn't have their own problems quitting;
I searched the net's creative commons
I wanted new comics,
I wanted good ones
I found some art, a three year old would draw
I found sites, years to lie abandonned
Just now I found you, Liszto.
Three frames stand upon the page
"This song's among my best"
"This song's my worst"
"This song's my best, so far"
This cartoon was your last, Liszto.
Three years ago a random stranger paused
to comment on your page
"I really enjoy these. Keep it up! K."
I wish you had, you showed promise. I see it, K. saw it.
A shame you did not see it, Liszto.
purple bruises and broken teeth
must I repeat
not blue nor green but purple indeed
must I explain
not healed nor fixed but broken for sure,
not to show and to tell
but to feel and to scream,
to see but not to touch,
you see,
touch is what brought them
sight is what lost them
purple bruises and broken teeth
I will not repeat.
not blue nor green but purple indeed
I can not explain
to never be healed nor fixed that's for certain,
I wish I could feel the things I want to
I wish I could feel your lips upon mine
I wish I could feel your heartbeat
I wish I could make your heartbeat faster
if only I could feel it
I need to hold your hand
I need to kiss your cheek
I want to know your thoughts
since I can't get out of mine
maybe yours can drown my pain
maybe yours can make me smile
but only maybe will it work
if your heart didn't mind
to try a little
to try a little on me
it's hard to love someone who doesn't love themselves
pictures that tell
pictures that lie
colors that heal
colors that fade
hearts that break
hearts that get broken
love that's never fixed
love that won't be healed
lies of love to protect
lie of love and you break
love full of lies and your broken
pictures that heal
pictures that fade
break to be broken
heal to fix others
lie to protect
you cut too deep and it's all over
skin too fragile and it's all over
heart too slow and it's all over
mentality isn't "normal" and it's all wrong
face imperfect and it's all wrong
body too thin
body too thick
scars that litter
scars that leave
think too much
think too little
cut one more time
skip one more time
smile one more time
fake it one more time
tie it one more time
flowers.
flowers are pretty until they die.
until they run out of love and effort.
people.
people are pretty until they stop loving to feel things.
feelings.
feelings are pretty until you don't want to feel them.
feelings fade.
people fade.
flowers fade.
He paints a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
His paintbrush is his razor
And his canvas is his wrist
He paints a pretty picture
In a colour that's blood red
While using his sharp paintbrush
He ends up finally dead
His pretty pictures fading
Quite slowly on his arm
Blood is not racing through him
He can no longer do harm
He painted his pretty picture
But the story had a twist
You see his mind was his razor
And his heart was his wrist
There were two hearts in the delivery room
The first had not been anticipated
And though the other was not hated
It would die better in my womb
Their outcries were against my ignorance
The harshness of it deafened my ears
And though I recognised their nightly fears
I turned away for the sake of innocence
The first died on a glacial autumn night
Gone forever, after a gory fight
One had survived since the delivery room
After an entreaty to be wary
The other had gone to the mortuary
To always live, with the first, in a tomb
Is it that easy to forget your face
After I learnt of its vivid pathways?
Is it fair to thieve glorious sunrays
That would leave me always a hopeful trace?
Is it that easy to forget our time
When it made woe somewhat tolerable?
Is it to bare the insufferable
That I should forget so much as is mine?
Ay, I will overlook your likeness
As gorgeous as all its stories may be
Allow me to see this as agedness
So that far from it I can only flee
It is hard to end this gloriousness
But it is proper that I let you free
I would not say that they are pretences
But she mentions them to me nonetheless
I try to trek these deep snake-like trenches
When it is she who puts me to the test
She never acknowledges her self-worth
And my attempts to change her thought are in vain
If life were to repeat this awful dearth
I'd learn that tears did not equal the pain
There's a world that we still need to rectify
And an eternity needed for total remission
Within ourselves we still question the eye
But we never choose to change the vision
Yet we pretend we can touch the heaven's stars
Without a rocket, and only our broken hearts