faded-rose7

I cannot Do Not want to express myself

"I sighed a song that silence brings
it's the one that everybody knows.
oh everybody knows the song that silence sings
and this was how it goes
these looms that weave apocryphal
they're hanging from a strand
these dark and empty rooms were full
of incandescent hands
an akward pause
a fatal flaw
time it's a crooked bow"

"fifty-five and three-eighths years later
at the bottom of this gigantic crater
an armchair calls to you
yeah, this armchair calls to you
and it says that
some day
we'll get back at them all
with epoxy and a pair of pliers
as ancient sea slugs begin to crawl
through the ragweed and barbed wire"

' energy can neither be created or destroyed  -  only transferred '

where am I in this equation.
everything takes; pulls energy
yet when it's my turn to receive -
I am passed by without a second glance.
leaving me to struggle. . .

I am vanishing into nothing.

<sub>" do you ever get tired of pretending...?"
                              
                                                              ' pretending what?'

". . . pretending that everthings fine, and that it doesn't bother you that you don't know what the missing piece is . . . "
                                         
                                                             '. . . missing piece?'

" - of life! of yourself! . . .the piece that will make things feel normal. make everything feel right. the piece that will just  - connect everything . . ."



} silence accompanied by an glance that questions my sanity {




} a quiet sigh towards the frosted car window. gazing at an empty reflection {


i'm tired.
tired of feeling.
I thought that I was happy.
thought that I could make it, since I had slowly taken down some of my wall -
and everything didn't come crashing down . . . right away
but everytime I am open,
things are too confusing.
when I let myself feel - I feel too much, or feel the wrong emotions.
Always false.
Always let down.

Everytime I get enough courage to hope;
to carry it gently in my battered hands, and share pieces of it with others -
it .  s h a t t e r s .
knocked violently out of my hand,
falling and breaking because I tripped over my own feet,
or silently slipping from my fingers because I do not have a strong enough grip.
hope dashed.
yet I keep on trying?
each time failing, and never learning...

to let myself feel is my death.
I have blocked out the discouragement, the denial, the negatives.
not letting them come through.
(only I know that that are still lying deep within me.)

affection, love, concern;
are just too taunting.
relationships never work out. they screw me up.
and yet, my pathetic longing, still keeps me half-heatingly trying again and again,
to make things true.
I connect way to easily. and one of these days its going to be my downfall.
being connected. getting attached.
is dangerous.
(i'm just setting myself up for more pain and stress)

I had stopped feelings!
HAD BECOME COMPLETELY NUMB,
not having a single care!
_{but people always have to intervene.}

I go round in circles,
and am always wanting a smidgen of hope to light the way
- enough that I can have my darkness,
but still allow me to stumble along without having to entirely stop.