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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:40:29 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 125641
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Streaming Thoughts To Death
[time] => 2006-09-12 09:43:29
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I feel like a monster, made with bones, covered in skin and flesh, my insides drowning in blood and gore and beneath it all, I feel like a monster. I am a monster. He says to me, "Beautiful beautiful blue girl how could you not die here, beneath the twilight sky, without the cosmos ripping you apart, constructing your nightmares into dreams, My God! How could you breathe?" Because I never could. It's beautiful, It's Victorian it makes me notice he has fire for eyes and scars for a heart. He's my black hole and I feel * * * * * * * * standing next to him. I'm true blue. I swear I don't know what happened that day, that night, that morning when the sky exploded into red and the bombs started falling, but, I think I was holding your hand when the world died. I think I almost forgot your name. And it drove me mad, I tried to kiss it all better, but I think you knew I was just stalling. I was trying to make up the moves as I went along and somehow I thought I could fool you, but, you asked me to call you by your name. I forgot you were always looking at me through mirrors. "My God! My God! Why hast thou forsaken me?!?! Girl. How much you've grown into a woman. And yet how dead you look still, like halloween in leather, and as pale as the face of the moon." ~~THIS IS A KIND OF SYNTHETIC LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN RELIGION AND FASHION RIPPING EACH OTHER TO SHREDS ALL IN THE NAME OF...LOVE.~~ Slicing your wrists in half, I forget how to sew, so I use glue instead. Yes, yes, I'm a monster, but I'm your monster. It's really late, at 3:00 or something. I sleep naked wishing you were here to hold me because I've never been so alone in my life and I've never been so aware that this lonliness is going to kill me. I"ve been so absentminded lately. Oh! But what a beautiful death it shall be. All winter and ice, morning becoming afternoon to night, freezing to death in the ice, and the color... Dead blue. For now though, I shall go. I shall write you later. Promise. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 164 [topic] => 36 [informant] => Uncertain_Oblivion [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )
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