August 14, 2008
Well its almost like being in love
It smells like tears as I cry myself to wake. Through sobs I ask for your help and you say, “ I’m sleeping.” Well sweet prince as you lay in slumber I’m lost in life and silently plead and beg you to love me whilst I struggle to tolerate myself. It feels like an earthquake tearing through my soul. The image in the mirror is but a shell of my former vivaciousness. I plead to her come back to me, come back and go back to nights of wild ruin and days of sun soaked abandon. Have I chosen this life in exchange for the wonderful nightmare of a dream I used to live? It seems that way more and more. I try to tell you secrets and you make them into jokes, cant you see I need something much more then your carelessness. I need an intellectual, an artist, more than your muscles and muscle milk. You may look good on futuristic paper but your canvas in blank and mine is being shaken away like an etch a sketch where only specks, mere remnants of my former life cling there statically. I need a change and hopefully something will present its self before someone does.