I hate being your muse. You make me free in my confinement. You put me in control. You strip life of the concrete.
You hate how absent I am around you. My touch makes your skin sing.
We love addiction. The intensity of the withdrawl symptoms, the beauty of this hideous world.
To disregard the rain. To ignore the sunshine. To feel the colors. To touch the music.
I want to be bright, and new, and shiny and yours.
You want to be free, and ephemeral.
Perfection is painful.
marți, 8 aprilie 2008
roleplay
You used to drink and drink and drink.
You took my hand and guided me through the unfamiliar streets. You were scared of being found. I was scared of getting lost.
I never regretted your death. I shot you to hell and for a long time I didn't realise the boredom I was saving you from.
I showed you the door. I unceremoniously pushed you out of my life. You hated me for doing it. I hated you for never coming back.
Oh, how the roles have been reversed. I now run from reality and try to find an unshaped corner in which to hide. And you… I imagine you wandering paths as old as time in hell, hoping to know what the way back is. Cursing me for sentencing you to this fate.
But you’re but a ghost and, most of the time, I’m convinced I’m alive.
You took my hand and guided me through the unfamiliar streets. You were scared of being found. I was scared of getting lost.
I never regretted your death. I shot you to hell and for a long time I didn't realise the boredom I was saving you from.
I showed you the door. I unceremoniously pushed you out of my life. You hated me for doing it. I hated you for never coming back.
Oh, how the roles have been reversed. I now run from reality and try to find an unshaped corner in which to hide. And you… I imagine you wandering paths as old as time in hell, hoping to know what the way back is. Cursing me for sentencing you to this fate.
But you’re but a ghost and, most of the time, I’m convinced I’m alive.
Smoke
Why did I fall in love with you?
I couldn’t help but laugh. Darling, I didn’t fall in love, I fell in lust.
How, you ask?
I watched you smoke. Leaning against a fence, your leather trousers casually low on your hips. You were smoking with your whole body. Your wrist was rigid, your fingers relaxed. Your chest rising while you inhaled the sour nectar. You made the world glamorous and chic. I watched you wishing I was the cigarette in your mouth, the smoke swimming around your lips. And I was yours. You had me, because you didn’t try to.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Darling, I didn’t fall in love, I fell in lust.
How, you ask?
I watched you smoke. Leaning against a fence, your leather trousers casually low on your hips. You were smoking with your whole body. Your wrist was rigid, your fingers relaxed. Your chest rising while you inhaled the sour nectar. You made the world glamorous and chic. I watched you wishing I was the cigarette in your mouth, the smoke swimming around your lips. And I was yours. You had me, because you didn’t try to.
desperation
Desperation is a wonderful feeling. So sinfully sublime. One of the most intense cravings.
You stare at me with hollow eyes. You’re always elsewhere. Running towards far away lands that have nothing to do with me. You’ve let me to deal with my own hatred and loneliness. Because I once swore I would never need anyone. And right now the fury of the underworld is an unworthy rival of mine. Because I need you and a treacherous physical pain always accompanies that statement. And I revel in it for it is the only sensation I am allowed. You’ve stripped me of the freedom I once clutched and the most unnerving thing is that I don’t want it back. I love to be lost in the dispair that you casted upon me and I enjoy every ounce of pain the memory of you causes.
I like to play with people. And sometimes I think you’re playing with me. Like I’m the toy car your mother never bought you. But you don’t care enough to play. You cast me aside when you’ve had your fill and I’m left waiting for the next glance of you I might get. My muscles ache when you’re not near me and my brain seems sore when you are. I can never be happy. Because getting what I want is never what I expect it to be. Why do I love the torture you put me through? And why do I think of revenge everytime I’m in your arms?
You stare at me with hollow eyes. You’re always elsewhere. Running towards far away lands that have nothing to do with me. You’ve let me to deal with my own hatred and loneliness. Because I once swore I would never need anyone. And right now the fury of the underworld is an unworthy rival of mine. Because I need you and a treacherous physical pain always accompanies that statement. And I revel in it for it is the only sensation I am allowed. You’ve stripped me of the freedom I once clutched and the most unnerving thing is that I don’t want it back. I love to be lost in the dispair that you casted upon me and I enjoy every ounce of pain the memory of you causes.
I like to play with people. And sometimes I think you’re playing with me. Like I’m the toy car your mother never bought you. But you don’t care enough to play. You cast me aside when you’ve had your fill and I’m left waiting for the next glance of you I might get. My muscles ache when you’re not near me and my brain seems sore when you are. I can never be happy. Because getting what I want is never what I expect it to be. Why do I love the torture you put me through? And why do I think of revenge everytime I’m in your arms?
Miconceived Antonyms
The opposite of love isn’t hate. It’s indiference. -- He used to look right through me. Like I was air. When I was gone he started feeling a craving. A thirst that could not be quenched with liquid.
You never notice the air around you until it’s gone.
The opposite of pleasure isn’t pain. It’s lack of sensation. – He used to grip my waist with such strength that I was left to contemplate the way the bruise changed from dark purple to pale yellow. He used to kiss my wrists and then bite the soft skin until pearl like drops of blood stained his lips.
The opposite of black isn’t white, it’s gray. Because it strips the world of the certainty that good and evil offer.d
You never notice the air around you until it’s gone.
The opposite of pleasure isn’t pain. It’s lack of sensation. – He used to grip my waist with such strength that I was left to contemplate the way the bruise changed from dark purple to pale yellow. He used to kiss my wrists and then bite the soft skin until pearl like drops of blood stained his lips.
The opposite of black isn’t white, it’s gray. Because it strips the world of the certainty that good and evil offer.d
I like
I like to self-destruct. It is the only natural high I know of. It is the only form of control that the gods allowed us.
I like to feel too much. It makes me aware of death. It makes the world less graceful.
I like to fill shot glaces with expesive wine and drown my throat in crimson bliss.
I like the decadence of sin. I like to bathe in the forbidden.
I love the smell of the sunset. Purple and dead.
I like to feel too much. It makes me aware of death. It makes the world less graceful.
I like to fill shot glaces with expesive wine and drown my throat in crimson bliss.
I like the decadence of sin. I like to bathe in the forbidden.
I love the smell of the sunset. Purple and dead.
marți, 1 aprilie 2008
Retracting..
ok...so i might have gone a little overboard with the slitting the pop-culture infected wrists. I apologize profusely. I like recommendations and i was just focusing my unabomber tendencies towards something that didn't deserve the negative attention.
The romanian educational system is not all crap. there are a few great teachers. The point is that the mediocre ones outnumber the competent ones. And that makes for a sad situation. There are subjects i enjoy and teachers i admire and respect. I was wrong by generalizing. that does not however mean that I do not believe the system is wrong and has to change.... just that not all the people in it are resposible for the situation and that not everyone is contributing to the problem.
The romanian educational system is not all crap. there are a few great teachers. The point is that the mediocre ones outnumber the competent ones. And that makes for a sad situation. There are subjects i enjoy and teachers i admire and respect. I was wrong by generalizing. that does not however mean that I do not believe the system is wrong and has to change.... just that not all the people in it are resposible for the situation and that not everyone is contributing to the problem.
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