Invisible soon
I’m fading
Away, retiring
Drawing back
Forgetting how to feel
Letting go of the gloom
Yet not letting in the light
I’m fading
Unlike the memories
Unlike your touch
Unlike your smell
Unlike your taste
I’m fading
But not forgetting
How good it can feel
How deep it can get
How big it is
I’m fading
Into the winter
Into the colors gone
Away from the presence
Into the nothingness of the cold
Receding, withdrawing
Not erased yet
Just fading
Away
In my ears
Tonight I took a long walk, it was snowing somewhat heavily, big fat flakes, beautiful.
In my ears “and up above, aliens hover, making home movies for the folks back home” and I was thinking, have I become a spectator of my own life?
In my ears “let it flow like a mud slide when I get on I like to ride and Glide I’ve got depth of perception in my text y’all I get props at my Mention ’cause I vex y’all so what’cha want” What is it that I want? What am I looking for here?
In my ears “A sickened mind and spirit, The mirror tells me lies, Could I mistake myself for someone, Who lives behind my eyes?” Is it really me here, or just a few layers that needed to be shed?
In my ears “In this theater that I call my soul, I always play the starring role” Center stage. Look at me, look at how miserable I am, look at how sad my situation is, look at meeeeee, hello????? I’m here, over here, hey, look here!
Strangely, I’m in a good mood tonight.
Pain in the blog
A funny thing happened. I started to write here because something was missing, things were changing, events were definately not happening. And I was wondering where my love for writing had gone. Slowly it came to me, that torrent of words, of ideas, of emotions, feelings, thoughts, pains. Now I just can’t stop. Can’t hold anything inside.
In the few months I’ve been here, I’ve browsed other peoples spaces, read their thoughts, ideas, stories, poems. Interacted with a few, to different degrees. Some want to be writers, some are. Some, like me, just need a place to express their feelings, no matter how dark. Others are true artists, social commentators, spectators.
It’s a wonderful experience so far. I belong wherever I go. And every one belongs here. I like to leave comments, I like it when people leave comments here. I try not to think about the audience when I write though. That’s a big trap. I’m not here because I want to be a writer when I grow up. I’m here for everything else.
Anyways, here’s Maddox’s take on blogs, enjoy!: If these words were people, I would embrace their genocide.
Misère matinale en stéréo
Nuovo à la SRC
Martineau au 98.5…
Ciboire que j’suis contente de tomber en vacances.
Cheers
Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.
So he goes.
So I’m here, chain smoking, reading, surfing, watching tv, wishing I was stoned, wishing I was drunk, wishing I was rich, wishing I was somewhere else, wishing I’d get rid of that fucking pain in my stomach.
I make up my mind to be happy, jolly, merry, then I fall.
But.
I had this dream last night. I can’t remember most of it. There was a lot of people I knew, some I didn’t. There was a lot of movement, of walking around, running. There was some sexual tension, some desire, some lust. I have no clue who was involved. I don’t even know if I was.
But I woke up around 2.30am with a feeling of peace and well being. I thought “Yeah, this is it! This feels good! Everything will be all right!” and went right back to sleep. The feeling lingered this morning. Until mid afternoon. I was just feeling good.
I wish I remembered my dream.
Vacuum
“Qu’est-ce que t’aimes?”
“Je l’sais pas… Je l’sais pas.”
C’est triste. Mais des fois je l’sais. Des fois c’est tellement clair que ça fait mal juste d’y penser. D’autres fois c’est le vide. C’est un gros crisse de vide. C’est pas parce qu’il n’y a rien. Ça s’peut pas. C’est la tempête. C’est comme quand le vent pousse la neige, ça fait des dunes, ça fait des trous. J’escalade une dune, je déboule en bas. Je me relève et je recommence.
C’est en haut, c’est là, je l’sais. J’y arrive. Je le vois. C’est pas juste des souvenirs. Si c’était juste des souvenirs, je ne me donnerais même pas la peine de grimper à nouveau. Je veux qu’il y ait d’autres teintes de rose dans le ciel quand le soleil se couche, je veux que la lune soit pleine à tous les soirs. Je veux voir des nuages aux formes impossibles, des étoiles tellement brillantes que ça fait mal aux yeux.
Je veux surtout arrêter de me dire que plus tard ça va aller mieux, que plus tard tout va être correct, que plus tard tout va s’arranger. Je veux que ce soit vrai. Que du haut de la dernière dune que j’ai gravi je puisse voir la vérité.
C’est encore la tempête. Elle a tout poussé d’un bord. Mais je lui fait face. Je ne lui tourne pas le dos. Qu’a mange d’la marde la tempête, je l’emmerde.
Pose-moi donc la question encore une fois pour voir.
One Slip
And then she tossed her mane while my resolve was put to the test
Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire
I lead the way to the funeral pyre
And without a thought of the consequence
I gave in to my decadence
-D. Gilmour
Decadence… what a lovely word. Nothing proper these days, nothing appropriate pleases me. I want depravity, self indulgence. I don’t want to please anyone. I want to be pleased.
Your eyes
All over my words
Searching
All over my thoughts
Thinking you understand
Thinking it’s about you
Thinking it’s about him
All over my soul
Looking for the truth
All over my sins
All over your faults
All over my words
My words
Just words
Your eyes
Looking at my heart
Spying on my thoughts
Watching me breathe
Was I gasping here?
Was I panting there?
Do you see my craving?
Your eyes
Do they see?
Do they see my blood?
Do they see me getting closer?
Do they see me closing the door?
Look away now
For your eyes may burn
For your sight may be damaged
For you will never see me like I was
For I am not here anymore
I think
I may be losing my mind
(not really)
(edited a little later, just to clarify… )