What is time to me? What are the dates? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A weakened mind such as my own fails to contemplate or comprehend when one ends and another begins. I am nocturnal to say the least, I am alive by all apparent parameters. My influence is known in the very least. My empty bed is there at night, perhaps a thought is raised as to me from time to time. Who am I? What remains of me when my presence in the world is only a mark and not as constant as the others I have known? I have heard I will be missed but for how long? I have loved twice in my life and they are blissful in my absence and the absence of me in their minds. Would a permanent absence be such a burden to them? I am between times, between days, between loves, between lives and between deaths. Those feelings and memories are the only constant anchoring me, though they are what drew me into exile in the first place.
I longed for any company and now that I have it I feel lonelier than ever before. I walk through age backwards, I fell into love when others were in the midst of promiscuity, my youth was spent for the price of a hear, my life in my lovers hands.
If she had remained alive I would have been happy, yet the days aged her. Those once soft hands decayed and her skeletal fingers gauged my life, I bled the promise of my first love.
So I left and thought to act my age, thought I was three years behind my peers and only knew true connection. Mistakes were made and lessons briefly learnt and forgotten. Part of me remained aged the other grew younger still, connections were scarce and costly in their emotional turmoil.
Now I sleep in proximity to another unplanned occurrence on the edge of adulthood, she lays close to me yet couldn’t be further from my mind.
My singularity has caused me to flee to my dreams, those in reality fall in any comparison to the ideal of a young boys’ romanticism. Two parts of self are conflicted, I want love and nothing at all. I have high standards and those lower than bacterias’ place in the foodchain.
My dreams and wishes are at odds with one another, maybe this is why I sometimes believe nothing to be the only answer which will satisfy them both.
You see only a construct, only what I wish nothing more.
Why would I be other than what I am to the world?
A patchwork of false confidence and feigned interest,
Nothing but a living lie, a determined deceit.
I’ve let people in before and all have leached my blood empty.
None regret their actions, they thought it righteous.
Oh, with all my love and emotion I was such an oppressor wasn’t I?
I was the sum and definition of my sex’s oppresson.
Maybe it would help if you didn’t punish those who care.
I have been hung for benevolence,
I have killed myself with honesty.
No one will know me again.
Close your eyes,
It’ll be over soon.
Seven more decades,
It’ll be over in no time.
To sleep in a city which never does,
When the sirens have subsided and the whiskey tumblers are bone dry.
I will lay my head upon my pillow for some much un-needed rest.
I shut my eyes and hear a reassurance that life still exists in any God forsaken hour.
In many ways I prefer to sleep alone. There is an honesty in your own company that you can never be more certain of. We lie to ourselves this is certain, but we lie to those closest more so. And how closer could you get to someone than sharing slumber? When I lay next to them I lay in fear of the lies, of the ends I know come. I know that my fear is what will bring them yet I cannot help it. I have been broken many times, I have been used and forgotten by those I cared more for than the earth I supposedly belong to. How could I ever trust after that? When something with such certainty, something which contains to me the definition of eternity and the ever after, can be forgotten in such haste? Yes, I may sleep alone. But I know that I will never leave unless I myself make the decision to do so. I will always wait for me to return to my chambers, I will never abandon myself regardless of how prolonged the return may be. I will always wait to wrap the arms around my lonely frame. I do not trust others to do so, no longer will I be disappointed. I miss them, yet the idea of stretching my neck to be cut once more steals me away from future company. Only my dreams bring that love, and in my dreams will that love remain. Untarnished by the deceit of reality.
That touch was like water falling through my hands.
Viscous and fluid, it cleaned away all sensation.
I was purified in nothing.
My mind swept clean of any memory of that event.
Nothing but the taste in my mouth and unlaced boots as I walked out the door.
I feel closer to a girl I see only in my mind then I did to you that night.
Why do I persist in trying to feel?
adam and the ants-beat my guest (by kennyCyAnIdE)
— John Lydon on Katy Perry
Ladies. I must confess, if you own a leather jacket and know who nightwing and henry rollins are? Marriage is on the table.
PIL - Public Image (by tihana2301)
Because rudegirl72 reminded me this song existed, now I wonder how I forget such awesomeness?!?
It’s up to 2500 words.
I’m at 562 and I’m already running out of bull shit!