My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
nerina
Since this is your first post, we have no context for this. So, we have to take it at complete face value.
And the face value reaction is...
(http://rlv.zcache.com/cheer_up_emo_kid_tshirt-p235082021094300280q6ws_400.jpg)
Or...
(http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a290/preciousari86/rippy_the_razor.jpg)
srsly, though, Or Kill Me is a subforum for rants, which generally have some sort of point. This reads more like poetry (we'll leave aside any criticisms of the poetry itself for now), which would be more appropriately placed in Bring and Brag.
Also, welcome to PD.com. We're a pretty active and engaged community, so please feel free to introduce yourself and tell us a little bit about you.
In addition, because this is either poetry or polemic, I didn't mention that the first sentence isn't actually true. The eyes do not see everything.
Quote from: LMNO on April 05, 2010, 07:32:19 PM
In addition, because this is either poetry or polemic, I didn't mention that the first sentence isn't actually true. The eyes do not see everything.
Mine do. But I have had them modified, and then exercised them trying to count the moles on old pics of Bea Arthur.
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
nerina
Is this a rant, or some kind of emo poetry?
Poetry.
If this is a rant, i don't get it.
It's good, but it could use more raven's wings.
Quote from: Nast on April 05, 2010, 11:12:27 PM
It's good, but it could use more raven's wings.
Now I have to shit bats. :crankey:
Anyway, off to Bring and Brag with it.
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly.
(http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i312/P3nT4gR4m/ZALMNO2.jpg)
?
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness.
(http://thecosmiccowgirl.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/leeks-melted-butter-in-pan.jpg)
THIS IS PAIN.
*giggles* "this is pain"
I guess it's as close to your guys type of rant as I get. About being lonely and peoples seemingly fake affection. It all came out in a spew, sort of like a rant.
I'm not sure how to do introductions.. Hi I'm here..heh
I tried to avoid emo overtones but I realize they did leak through a bit, from a certain perspective anyway.
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
It's just sort of a stream of thought. Expression on the run, you know? trying to get stuff out of my head.
I smoke pot, it helps. LoL
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 09, 2010, 07:49:14 PM
It's just sort of a stream of thought. Expression on the run, you know? trying to get stuff out of my head.
I smoke pot, it helps. LoL
Gaaarrrrrr, please don't be like that.
There's a bunch of folks on this forum that use drugs. A bunch that don't. So this isn't about whether or not you do or do not use drugs.
But please, take responsibility/credit for your own writing.
If you write shit, don't blame pot. If you write brilliant stuff, don't foist the credit off on pot. What you're writing is YOUR WRITING. If you find that pot helps you access the part of yourself that you want to access to write, that's fine. But please don't make this into "lol it was teh potz"
Quote from: BCB on April 09, 2010, 03:01:11 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
EBS, you're an idiot.
Quote from: Darth Cupcake on April 09, 2010, 08:11:53 PM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 09, 2010, 07:49:14 PM
It's just sort of a stream of thought. Expression on the run, you know? trying to get stuff out of my head.
I smoke pot, it helps. LoL
Gaaarrrrrr, please don't be like that.
There's a bunch of folks on this forum that use drugs. A bunch that don't. So this isn't about whether or not you do or do not use drugs.
But please, take responsibility/credit for your own writing.
If you write shit, don't blame pot. If you write brilliant stuff, don't foist the credit off on pot. What you're writing is YOUR WRITING. If you find that pot helps you access the part of yourself that you want to access to write, that's fine. But please don't make this into "lol it was teh potz"
This. Well said, DC.
Quote from: Burns on April 09, 2010, 10:15:33 PM
Quote from: BCB on April 09, 2010, 03:01:11 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
EBS, you're an idiot.
Also ironic, given EBS had a penchant for popping pills/drinking and then going off at other people on the web, pretty much at random.
While Neri's work didn't really click for me, at least she was attempting to be creative, you know?
Quote from: LMNO on April 10, 2010, 02:19:13 AM
Quote from: Darth Cupcake on April 09, 2010, 08:11:53 PM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 09, 2010, 07:49:14 PM
It's just sort of a stream of thought. Expression on the run, you know? trying to get stuff out of my head.
I smoke pot, it helps. LoL
Gaaarrrrrr, please don't be like that.
There's a bunch of folks on this forum that use drugs. A bunch that don't. So this isn't about whether or not you do or do not use drugs.
But please, take responsibility/credit for your own writing.
If you write shit, don't blame pot. If you write brilliant stuff, don't foist the credit off on pot. What you're writing is YOUR WRITING. If you find that pot helps you access the part of yourself that you want to access to write, that's fine. But please don't make this into "lol it was teh potz"
This. Well said, DC.
Sober editing, while not fun, is
everyone's friend,
Quote from: Burns on April 09, 2010, 10:15:33 PM
Quote from: BCB on April 09, 2010, 03:01:11 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
EBS, you're an idiot.
You've figured me out. :lulz:
I'm hoping to eventually engage the op for a better explanation of the whole emo culture in our youth today. I did take a very abrassive approach at it.
Quote from: Cain on April 10, 2010, 02:53:36 AM
Quote from: Burns on April 09, 2010, 10:15:33 PM
Quote from: BCB on April 09, 2010, 03:01:11 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
EBS, you're an idiot.
Also ironic, given EBS had a penchant for popping pills/drinking and then going off at other people on the web, pretty much at random.
While Neri's work didn't really click for me, at least she was attempting to be creative, you know?
It wasn't random and I haven't gone off on anyone in quite a long time.
Point taken.
Quote from: Earthbound Spirit on April 10, 2010, 04:43:17 AM
Quote from: Burns on April 09, 2010, 10:15:33 PM
Quote from: BCB on April 09, 2010, 03:01:11 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
EBS, you're an idiot.
You've figured me out. :lulz:
I'm hoping to eventually engage the op for a better explanation of the whole emo culture in our youth today. I did take a very abrassive approach at it.
Bullshit. you know it. we all know it.
Quote from: Cain on April 10, 2010, 02:53:36 AM
Quote from: Burns on April 09, 2010, 10:15:33 PM
Quote from: BCB on April 09, 2010, 03:01:11 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 05, 2010, 06:49:23 PM
My eyes see everything. My heart feels everything. Knowing so clearly I feel blind. The light feels like darkness and death's not a secret anymore. My eyes are black and without needing a reason why my soul is screaming so quietly. Pain like melted butter, like pleasure, just like happiness. Like a slit wrist crying softly, ecstatic, life blood pouring out. Never mind those promises. Smile when no ones looking, no ones ever really looking. A spirit in the darkness, the other lights are just fading dreams, sweet and lost. Other peoples pale reflections are the ghosts of hope. I just want to touch. I can't feel their caressing hands, my black eyes watch their pretend kisses and love, and my black eyes laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ
What is this shit supposed to be? I don't get it.
Have you considered drugs?
EBS, you're an idiot.
Also ironic, given EBS had a penchant for popping pills/drinking and then going off at other people 17ish year old boys on the web, pretty much at random.
Fixed for how my memory serves it.
Quote
While Neri's work didn't really click for me, at least she was attempting to be creative, you know?
And yeah, and that the whole thing right there.
I think the pot was meant to help generally, not for the writing. Just reading that little post again.
Yep yep.
In short, I love it. The slow, shivering, creep of pain through my nerves. It's ecstatic. That flash of sensation when I am burned, hit, slapped or cut. So refreshing, like a splash of cold water. It feels right and deserved, perfect. All I want to do is curl up and let myself be hurt.
The cold, warm, flow of blood across my skin, the slow drip of it. That sweet, lovely taste. Like tears, only thicker and more filling, liquid pain in my mouth. Mmmm.
And to hurt someone else. That evil urge to bend another, to hear them gasp, to whimper with the same strange mix of pleasure and pain that I love so much. Their blood mixing with mine, smeared across our skins, teeth bared with the hatred of ourselves and our love for eachother.
What could be sweeter?
fear, disgust, jealousy and lust
false hope, tears, broken trust
unheard cries, disdain, lying eyes
A faithless caress, hatred disguised
lip service, friendly excuses, petty comfort
Mindless apathy, a litany of love...
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 13, 2010, 07:59:04 PM
In short, I love it. The slow, shivering, creep of pain through my nerves. It's ecstatic. That flash of sensation when I am burned, hit, slapped or cut. So refreshing, like a splash of cold water. It feels right and deserved, perfect. All I want to do is curl up and let myself be hurt.
The cold, warm, flow of blood across my skin, the slow drip of it. That sweet, lovely taste. Like tears, only thicker and more filling, liquid pain in my mouth. Mmmm.
And to hurt someone else. That evil urge to bend another, to hear them gasp, to whimper with the same strange mix of pleasure and pain that I love so much. Their blood mixing with mine, smeared across our skins, teeth bared with the hatred of ourselves and our love for eachother.
What could be sweeter?
When you do exactly the same thing, but don't hate yourself while doing it.
LMNO
-trust me.
I Will Not bind anothers heart,
nor allow mine bound.
such stifling affections are sickening
for the hearts innermost nature is fey
That much is obvious.
So don't make me any promises.
Don't say it'll be ok.
Hold me sweet, just love me.
That's all I'll ever need.
I've felt that.
The not hating myself while I'm hurt.
It's nice.
I like hating myself sometimes though. It's like the cold water on a washcloth after being hurt. It doesn't feel good but it does.
I think I'm kind of sick in some ways. Oh well.
It's like a drug addiction. I know it's not good for me but it fulfills emotional needs.
I just shat in my pance.
And I liked it.
Intoxicated with the madness, I'm in love with my sadness.
My hands are a quaking basket of vomit.
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 13, 2010, 08:03:33 PM
I Will Not bind anothers heart,
nor allow mine bound.
such stifling affections are sickening
for the hearts innermost nature is fey
That much is obvious.
So don't make me any promises.
Don't say it'll be ok.
Hold me sweet, just love me.
That's all I'll ever need.
So, do you like disco music?
I can't survive, can't stay alive
Without your love, oh baby
I can't exist, I'll surely miss your tender kiss
(A broken man with empty hands)
Aaahhhh.......
BABY!
My heart is full of love and desire for you!
Now come on down and do what you gotta do!
You started this fire down in my soul!
Now can't you see it's burning out of control!
Come on (now) satisfy the need in me!
Only your good lovin' can set me free... hey!
Don't, don't you leave me this way.
My pain is like a new Carl's Jr. 100% Black Angus Beef Six Dollar Burger™
It's for a limited time only.
This thread makes me want to go kayaking.
Seriously. Look at that fucking sunshine. I bet it's really goddamn nice out on the water today, and my kayak has a hole for packing sandwiches and beer.
Disco is pretty sweet.
And that kayaking post made me happy.
Dammit, now I want to go kayaking.
How are kayaks made?
It's just fiberglass cloth and epoxy right?
Screw it, now i want to go kayaking in my selfmade kayak.
http://www.seawingboats.co.uk/
http://www.getoutdoors.com/goblog/index.php?/archives/2645-DIY-Make-Your-Own-Kayak.html
http://www.instructables.com/id/Build-a-Greenland-Kayak/
http://www.google.com/images?hl=en&q=DIY+kayak&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=4zPGS7ihBI2ksgOvto24DQ&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=4&ved=0CCAQsAQwAw
:fap:
Do you ever get that feeling?
You know. The one where you want to rip off your arms and dive head first into a bathtub full of acid?
Well...so do I.
There are three other people inside my head. They're names are Red, Blue and Black. I know that they are just personified emotional states. My emotional states.
Red shows up when I am depressed. She reaches inside my chest and absorbs my pain. She also intensifies it.
Blue comes when red is done. He comforts and holds me, soothing me 'till I fall asleep.
Black is a recent creation. He is the evil wolf faced child who lives in the darker corners of my mind, screaming for me to destroy everything. He comes when I am sick of neatness and order. Sick of everything pretty and fake.
You know what though? None of this matters. It's all a fucking dream and so am I. It's like I'm walking through a world of people who don't know they're asleep. Don't know that all the effort they spend creating themselves and they're opinions and attitudes is wasted. A childs game with the same goddamn ending over and over and over.
You know why I don't tell people this? Because it doesn't matter. Most of them are enjoying they're imaginary worlds and who says realising that none of it's real and that none of it matters is any better than being asleep and dreaming anyway?
Fuck it, let the dreamers dream.
Hmm...
(http://farm1.static.flickr.com/89/245063794_5ab866053b.jpg)
(http://img.moronail.net/img/8/9/989.jpg)
(http://i712.photobucket.com/albums/ww130/unfringed/568px-Endlesscandy.jpg)
Oh man, ice cream is the best!
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 05:21:55 AM
Do you ever get that feeling?
You know. The one where you want to rip off your arms and dive head first into a bathtub full of acid?
Well...so do I.
There are three other people inside my head. They're names are [...]
You know why I don't tell people this?
Um, no? What do you mean? As far as I can tell you have been doing pretty much
nothing except talking and telling everybody and talking about this.
Seriously, we're being really patient, but
When are you going to start talking about something else?
Something that does not revolve around you having a dark tortured soul, a sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctified temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods — the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nerinamakanitep.
There are dark streaks where I touch him.
He knows where my hands have been.
I am filth.
I am refuse.
No soap will cleanse me,
No water to wash me away.
But he still loves me,
And he suffers for me.
And I suffer for him.
Together, caked with ichor,
We lie together
On our bed of nails.
Quote from: Triple Zero on April 15, 2010, 11:48:24 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 05:21:55 AM
Do you ever get that feeling?
You know. The one where you want to rip off your arms and dive head first into a bathtub full of acid?
Well...so do I.
There are three other people inside my head. They're names are [...]
You know why I don't tell people this?
Um, no? What do you mean? As far as I can tell you have been doing pretty much nothing except talking and telling everybody and talking about this.
This.
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on April 15, 2010, 03:50:01 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on April 15, 2010, 11:48:24 AM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 05:21:55 AM
Do you ever get that feeling?
You know. The one where you want to rip off your arms and dive head first into a bathtub full of acid?
Well...so do I.
There are three other people inside my head. They're names are [...]
You know why I don't tell people this?
Um, no? What do you mean? As far as I can tell you have been doing pretty much nothing except talking and telling everybody and talking about this.
This.
WHY DO YOU HATE BLIND VOICELESS MINDLESS GARGOYLES??
:mmmmph:
\
(http://cache.eb.com/eb/image?id=82649&rendTypeId=4)
*giggles*
Ok.
That WAS angst.
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 07:11:44 PM
*giggles*
Ok.
That WAS angst.
That you recognize and admit it is promising...
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on April 15, 2010, 07:39:37 PM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 07:11:44 PM
*giggles*
Ok.
That WAS angst.
That you recognize and admit it is promising...
Now I'd like to see him write REALLY bad poetry. We've been lacking in that department. If he doesn't, I will.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on April 15, 2010, 07:40:30 PM
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on April 15, 2010, 07:39:37 PM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 07:11:44 PM
*giggles*
Ok.
That WAS angst.
That you recognize and admit it is promising...
Now I'd like to see him write REALLY bad poetry. We've been lacking in that department. If he doesn't, I will.
There has to be a *good* forum put such a masterpieces on display
Quote from: Thurnez Isa on April 15, 2010, 07:42:15 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on April 15, 2010, 07:40:30 PM
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on April 15, 2010, 07:39:37 PM
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 07:11:44 PM
*giggles*
Ok.
That WAS angst.
That you recognize and admit it is promising...
Now I'd like to see him write REALLY bad poetry. We've been lacking in that department. If he doesn't, I will.
There has to be a *good* forum put such a masterpieces on display
Right here.
Bad poetry. (look at the first line)
Malicious Melancholia
creeps beneath my skin
All my thoughts are dead,
and hell walks laughing once again.
There's a candle in my skull
flickers just like yours.
No way to gaurd it from the wind
when your lost inside a storm.
our dim lights are lost
eventually,
with no one to see them gutter out...
I feel dirty for writing that..
You know, we haven't trolled a Goth Poetry board is a few years...
A Raven's Night
I walk blacken'd streets at night
dead cold from the summer heat
those twisted eyes so thin... so dark
Crying softly to the moonlight
I can hear those trembling sighs
that bruised broken body... so cold
fuck i need a coffee
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 07:50:47 PM
Bad poetry. (look at the first line)
Malicious Melancholia
creeps beneath my skin
All my thoughts are dead,
and hell walks laughing once again.
There's a candle in my skull
flickers just like yours.
No way to gaurd it from the wind
when your lost inside a storm.
our dim lights are lost
eventually,
with no one to see them gutter out...
I feel dirty for writing that..
:lulz:
Don't feel dirty
give in...
besides we already have the best poem ever written
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=11705.0
see it can't be topped
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 07:50:47 PM
Bad poetry. (look at the first line)
Malicious Melancholia
creeps beneath my skin
All my thoughts are dead,
and hell walks laughing once again.
There's a candle in my skull
flickers just like yours.
No way to gaurd it from the wind
when your lost inside a storm.
our dim lights are lost
eventually,
with no one to see them gutter out...
I feel dirty for writing that..
A good start, but now
take it to the wall. Ramp that shit up. Go all Emily Dickenson crossed with Poe on us.
Do you ever get that feeling?
You know. The one where you
want to rip off your arms
and dive head first
into a bathtub full of acid?
Well...so do I.
There are three other people
inside my head. They're names
are Red, Blue and Black.
I know that they are just
personified emotional states.
My emotional states.
Red shows up when I am depressed.
She reaches inside my chest
and absorbs my pain.
She also intensifies it.
Blue comes when red is done.
He comforts and holds me,
soothing me 'till I fall asleep.
Black is a recent creation.
He is the evil wolf faced child
who lives in the darker corners
of my mind, screaming for me
to destroy everything. He comes
when I am sick of neatness
and order. Sick of everything
pretty and fake.
You know what though?
None of this matters.
It's all a fucking dream
and so am I.
It's like I'm walking
through a world of people
who don't know they're asleep.
Don't know that all the effort
they spend creating themselves
and they're opinions and attitudes
is wasted.
A childs game
with the same
goddamn ending
over
and over
and over.
You know why
I don't tell people this?
Because it doesn't matter.
Most of them are enjoying
they're imaginary worlds
and who says realising
that none of it's real
and that none of it matters
is any better than being asleep
and dreaming anyway?
Fuck it,
let the dreamers dream.
My eyes see everything.
My heart feels everything.
Knowing so clearly I feel blind.
The light feels like darkness
and death's not a secret
anymore.
My eyes are black
and without needing a reason why
my soul is screaming so quietly.
Pain like melted butter,
like pleasure,
just like happiness.
Like a slit wrist crying softly,
ecstatic,
life blood pouring out.
Never mind those promises.
Smile when no ones looking,
no ones ever really looking.
A spirit in the darkness,
the other lights
are just fading dreams,
sweet and lost.
Other peoples pale reflections
are the ghosts of hope.
I just want to touch.
I can't feel their caressing hands,
my black eyes watch
their pretend kisses and love,
and my black eyes laugh.
(I find this most enjoyable if I imagine Sean Connery reading it aloud)
:lulz:
Sean Connery, beatnik/emo poet extraodinaire.
Maya
Illusion, I know. Sometimes anyway.
All will be swept clean, in fact, already has. I know this when I can clear my head of it.
But at times
as now
she clouds my vision, ensares my heart
and I can see nothing.
I feel sick with it
made sick
by her words which should not effect me so.
My own weakness, my own attachment.
My own deluded stupidity for believing the lies.
Such pretty lies, as from the mouth of a lover, whispered softly.
So convincing is her deciet, and so alluring are her promises that I would and have
knowingly or not
thrown away the paradise that is the secret right of us all.
When I am home, and thus not being bothered by Filthy Assistant, I shall post a poem of truly epic proportions. I composed the basic gist of it while creating a superfund site in my office bathroom.
:lulz:
those who live close to each other have to crash a poetry reading... if there's enough speakers to just totally take it over it would be hilarious
And or.
Start a really good one. and then halfway through invite all the wrong(err I mean right) people.
More confusion.
Crawling in my skin,
This pain I cannot feel
Blinded by your eyes
Black as a raven's wing,
I cannot breathe
I cannot feel
I can only embrace the darkness
Within my heart
There's something in my heart..
Wait, what??!
How the F did that get there.
It feels like a sexual deviant.
Quote from: nerinamakani on April 15, 2010, 08:40:30 PM
There's something in my heart..
Wait, what??!
How the F did that get there.
It feels like a sexual deviant.
Deep within my aorta
Crimson tears spill forth
There is only you to soothe
My sore angina
im drowning in darkness
a dark sea of blackness
i cant see and it scares me
but its ok to be scared
i cant tell if im floating, moving, or just sinking
i start to drift into sleep with wandering thoughts wondering
is this death?
am i drowning?
is that what this is?
im drowning in the ocean
i try to move
i cant
im scared
AGAIN
and start to panic a little
i want to cry out but i cant
and i know that no one will hear me any ways
but after a while of fear and crying
i calm and start to fall back into sleep
with more wondering wonders of rainbows and butterflys
and understanding oh how i wish i understood all and accepted all
i have the need to pop my ear bubbles
i try
damn it i cant even do that!
still cant move but im coming
to accept it now though
i start to wonder though am i stuck here
forever?
just for now?
hmmm...
sometimes i see light
a reflection of the sun on the water
but i dont want it
there are bad things there
in the light and that scares me the most
sometimes i try to get into the light
but i couldnt if i wanted to
and sometimes i really want to
but it doesnt matter I just cant move
i start to wonder if i cant move cause i cant?
or cause i dont really want to?
of if im just too weak?
i feel so weak sometimes
this makes me worry horribly
will i be able to leave when i need to?
want too?
i dont know
but i do know that i just feel so weak
is that what this is im to weak to do anything
but exist here suspended in watery darkness?
Quote from: Nast on April 15, 2010, 08:36:05 PM
Crawling in my skin,
This pain I cannot feel
(http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/object3/1537/119/n71980636405_3848.jpg)
Quote from: Lady Grinning Soul on April 15, 2010, 09:51:56 PM
(http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/object3/1537/119/n71980636405_3848.jpg)
God is a poop catapult.
You cannot beat
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQwox_cAt04
my love
is like a red, red nose