Pendulous threads.
She knew she shouldn't be writing this.
And still.
Her hand wouldn't stop moving.
They were millions of miles away, never going to read it.
Perhaps that's why, as naturally as breathing, the words flowed onto the paper...
This recurring dream refuses to fade just as your witless voice refuses to dim.
I’ve painted so many pictures of you in my head, that I know your face better than I know my own.
I’ve written so many words that you might have said that I’ve stopped asking questions because I know all your answers.
I’ve been cut in half again and again, drawing chalk outlines of you in the dark.
I hate you like I hate your sedition.
And loathe you more, every second that passes.
My ardent revulsion is meant for every hair on your worthless head.
And my fervent disgust, for every fibre of your being.
The weakness in your soul is laid bare for everyone to see.
I rise above and you drown in your own ridiculous vengeance.
Wasting away under the shadow of your memories,
I’ve been here all along while you’ve been turning your face away.
P.S. It's just writing. They're just words.
And still.
Her hand wouldn't stop moving.
They were millions of miles away, never going to read it.
Perhaps that's why, as naturally as breathing, the words flowed onto the paper...
This recurring dream refuses to fade just as your witless voice refuses to dim.
I’ve painted so many pictures of you in my head, that I know your face better than I know my own.
I’ve written so many words that you might have said that I’ve stopped asking questions because I know all your answers.
I’ve been cut in half again and again, drawing chalk outlines of you in the dark.
I hate you like I hate your sedition.
And loathe you more, every second that passes.
My ardent revulsion is meant for every hair on your worthless head.
And my fervent disgust, for every fibre of your being.
The weakness in your soul is laid bare for everyone to see.
I rise above and you drown in your own ridiculous vengeance.
Wasting away under the shadow of your memories,
I’ve been here all along while you’ve been turning your face away.
P.S. It's just writing. They're just words.
posted by Souljacker at 7:03 AM
7 Comments:
that is some c-riously good shyt!
Why not write some words that make your readers happy eh?
Since you evidently have alot of them getting back to your writing.
Think about it?
x
P.S- I dont mean to offend. If i did, it wasnt meant to. Though i think i didnt. You probably rolled your eyes and went "Ha".:)
No offense taken =]
Most of the writing is scribbling in the dead of the night, but I'll keep what you said in mind.
Perhaps one of these days. =D
I dont know, I enjoy what you write. I have read a few funny posts here and there which were good, but I'd advise you not to force anything. Keep writing!
Wasting away under the shadow of your memories,
I’ve been here all along while you’ve been turning your face away.
You know the silence after the storm, and all that crap?
This feels something like that...
=/
Great words nonetheless.
Sometimes I would consider sleep as an alternative. When I switch myself off and lean against the walls. But you know that part already.
Sleep.
That word seems so distant to a bunch of us.
Its all we did when we were infants.
Now?
Far far away..
Good writing btw.
And yes, Happy posts needed!!
Lol.
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