the start.
the sickly hope and never ending optimism.
the denial in the face of undeniable truth.
the rage at the the unknowing, confusion in bleak truth.
the red hot anger followed by wet tears to be poured on the ash of what was left.
the understanding i have that there is little time left.
the anger at how i wish there was even less.
because there is little left to savour.
my duality in the face of governing opression of my duty:
my friends, letting me be something else, something more.
my school, harbinger this fugitive of the reality of my life.
my enemies, not knowing that i'am one step closer to the edge they so perilously
shrugged. hunched over. slave to the ground i grace with my eyes.
gravel. mud. grey monotonial waste i loook upon.
all i missed. not even looking forward.
keeping me in. cloed up.
now i looked forward, and i see all i have missed.
the beauty of peoples faces.
achitectural wonders.
animals, life, life with all its wonders.
love, love with its eternal hugging grip.
but it eventually begins to choke, choke the life.
pinning me down.
so now i look up. up towards the sky.
clouds, the sun, the sky palet mixing befopre my eyes.
everything i could want, every colour seen before my eyes.
the breeze brushing my face as i look upon this ex
anger.
screaming echo down the pit of my mind.
grabbing at the walls, but never truly trying.
it is but a cliff in my mind, and i have jumped from it.
even though i so willingly jump. now i spiral downward,
and a codl rush up. which helps to numb my pain.
but when i stop falling; when i finally hit the floor.
the numbing stops, and i am in more pain than when i jumped.
so shud i be in continous jumping; or let hte pain set into me.
so that finally i can be free, and in control of my own path.
not just in constant free fall.
scars on my back.
red on my face, and down my body.
bruises on her, and on me.
the fight, the anger, the rage.
some rope, restraint.
feelings.
but they are not bad ones.
the scars are from ur hands of passion.
ur redlipstick on my face trickling ur lips downward.
bruises on u from the roughness of our love, were never plain or smooth.
the fight the passionate tiffon our love making screams.
some rope. to restrain our selves.
so we might be freed, released on our own special way.
do we do these things to hurt each other.
or do we do it to remind oruselves.
we caqn also feel the pleasure in our anger, not just in our love.
tear.
drop of sadness.
the feeling of my worries pitter patting on my mind.
my mind saturated in there worries.
rainstorm, in the jungle of my mind.
or is this one of joy.
is it the puddle i jump in as a child.
the tear of love, joy and relief.
the tear tht wets a paper of results.
wets the hand of our loved ones.
and finally rests on our lovers head.
most of all the rain, may it be good or bad.
irrigqates the land of our mind, so that new might grow.
but dont let this new drown with these tears.
tick tock the clock strikes two.
tick tock an hour of my life has gone.
tick tock another hour with not much to do.
tick tock another hour i have done.
tick tock the clock strikes three.
tick tock my anger begins to rise.
tick tock another hour, for me not to see.
tick tock and for others to hide.
tick tock the clock strikes four.
tick tock soft and sweet sensations fill my mind.
tick she leaves me wanting more.
tock wanting the love i might find.
tick smile creeps onto my face.
as i feel her tender kiss.
our bodies warming this space.
our minds wanting never to miss.
tock my hand runs through her hair.
opening up her eyes to
close.
A bullet closely misses my face.
A spear cuts through my clothes, nearly meeting my flesh.
I touch the sky, before falling from its presence;
Pulling the cord close to the ground, close to its body.
I jump from the bridge, meeting the ground, before being pulled back.
I jump. jump into your arms, into your heart, into love.
No cord, no pull, only a knowing tht the ground is moments away.
I jump for lust, for want, for you.
The rush. the thrill. the absolute brilliance of it all.
But this is not a thril ride.
There is no cord to pull.
Nothing to pull us back.
Jumping blind, falling.
thrill rides take us close.
but love ta
time.
double edged sword, or just our bindings.
our drunken master, beating us at its whim.
out staying its welcome.
leaving us to suffer in its unwanted company.
but leaving at a moments notice.
no warnings.
just the cold still smell, of loved ones alone with out time.
we hate it, betraying us at a moments notice.
but its always there, ticking in the corner.
we should thank it. for it gives us life and the loved ones we hold so dear.
time gives, and takes.
we are merely guests in its house. and we shouldnt be angry when its time to leave.
shrugged. hunched over. slave to the ground i grace with my eyes.
gravel. mud. grey monotonial waste i loook upon.
all i missed. not even looking forward.
keeping me in. cloed up.
now i looked forward, and i see all i have missed.
the beauty of peoples faces.
achitectural wonders.
animals, life, life with all its wonders.
love, love with its eternal hugging grip.
but it eventually begins to choke, choke the life.
pinning me down.
so now i look up. up towards the sky.
clouds, the sun, the sky palet mixing befopre my eyes.
everything i could want, every colour seen before my eyes.
the breeze brushing my face as i look upon this ex
the start.
the sickly hope and never ending optimism.
the denial in the face of undeniable truth.
the rage at the the unknowing, confusion in bleak truth.
the red hot anger followed by wet tears to be poured on the ash of what was left.
the understanding i have that there is little time left.
the anger at how i wish there was even less.
because there is little left to savour.
my duality in the face of governing opression of my duty:
my friends, letting me be something else, something more.
my school, harbinger this fugitive of the reality of my life.
my enemies, not knowing that i'am one step closer to the edge they so perilously
shrugged. hunched over. slave to the ground i grace with my eyes.
gravel. mud. grey monotonial waste i loook upon.
all i missed. not even looking forward.
keeping me in. cloed up.
now i looked forward, and i see all i have missed.
the beauty of peoples faces.
achitectural wonders.
animals, life, life with all its wonders.
love, love with its eternal hugging grip.
but it eventually begins to choke, choke the life.
pinning me down.
so now i look up. up towards the sky.
clouds, the sun, the sky palet mixing befopre my eyes.
everything i could want, every colour seen before my eyes.
the breeze brushing my face as i look upon this ex
anger.
screaming echo down the pit of my mind.
grabbing at the walls, but never truly trying.
it is but a cliff in my mind, and i have jumped from it.
even though i so willingly jump. now i spiral downward,
and a codl rush up. which helps to numb my pain.
but when i stop falling; when i finally hit the floor.
the numbing stops, and i am in more pain than when i jumped.
so shud i be in continous jumping; or let hte pain set into me.
so that finally i can be free, and in control of my own path.
not just in constant free fall.
scars on my back.
red on my face, and down my body.
bruises on her, and on me.
the fight, the anger, the rage.
some rope, restraint.
feelings.
but they are not bad ones.
the scars are from ur hands of passion.
ur redlipstick on my face trickling ur lips downward.
bruises on u from the roughness of our love, were never plain or smooth.
the fight the passionate tiffon our love making screams.
some rope. to restrain our selves.
so we might be freed, released on our own special way.
do we do these things to hurt each other.
or do we do it to remind oruselves.
we caqn also feel the pleasure in our anger, not just in our love.
tear.
drop of sadness.
the feeling of my worries pitter patting on my mind.
my mind saturated in there worries.
rainstorm, in the jungle of my mind.
or is this one of joy.
is it the puddle i jump in as a child.
the tear of love, joy and relief.
the tear tht wets a paper of results.
wets the hand of our loved ones.
and finally rests on our lovers head.
most of all the rain, may it be good or bad.
irrigqates the land of our mind, so that new might grow.
but dont let this new drown with these tears.
tick tock the clock strikes two.
tick tock an hour of my life has gone.
tick tock another hour with not much to do.
tick tock another hour i have done.
tick tock the clock strikes three.
tick tock my anger begins to rise.
tick tock another hour, for me not to see.
tick tock and for others to hide.
tick tock the clock strikes four.
tick tock soft and sweet sensations fill my mind.
tick she leaves me wanting more.
tock wanting the love i might find.
tick smile creeps onto my face.
as i feel her tender kiss.
our bodies warming this space.
our minds wanting never to miss.
tock my hand runs through her hair.
opening up her eyes to
close.
A bullet closely misses my face.
A spear cuts through my clothes, nearly meeting my flesh.
I touch the sky, before falling from its presence;
Pulling the cord close to the ground, close to its body.
I jump from the bridge, meeting the ground, before being pulled back.
I jump. jump into your arms, into your heart, into love.
No cord, no pull, only a knowing tht the ground is moments away.
I jump for lust, for want, for you.
The rush. the thrill. the absolute brilliance of it all.
But this is not a thril ride.
There is no cord to pull.
Nothing to pull us back.
Jumping blind, falling.
thrill rides take us close.
but love ta
time.
double edged sword, or just our bindings.
our drunken master, beating us at its whim.
out staying its welcome.
leaving us to suffer in its unwanted company.
but leaving at a moments notice.
no warnings.
just the cold still smell, of loved ones alone with out time.
we hate it, betraying us at a moments notice.
but its always there, ticking in the corner.
we should thank it. for it gives us life and the loved ones we hold so dear.
time gives, and takes.
we are merely guests in its house. and we shouldnt be angry when its time to leave.