March 26th, 2002

Stab Time

(no subject)

Maybe it's the rain.





I spent last night hitting my head against a brick wall. Well, change "the night" to "a few minutes" and "brick" to "fake wood covered plaster" and the cliche becomes honest. I realized that's what I was doing in my mind, I wondered how it actually felt. It hurt. And it brought a manic quality to my normal, persistent sense of anguished apathy. The falcon cannot hear the falconer. But I can't accept it. I try. I take everything I have, ball it up into a wad and shove it down the throat of the universe.. over and over, wondering why it keeps getting coughed up. Refusing to stop. Killing my head. Blind to every shade of grey. I should be adapting. I should be giving up on failures. I'm not. "It doesn't matter" should be a comfort. Something I can tell myself to soothe and placate every concern away. But no, it's a knife I use to gut myself, refusing to find any peace in faithlessness. Hope. Get back in the fucking box. I hate you.
  • Current Music
    The metal turns to rust

(no subject)

"I crossed my heart so many times not even I believe
opened up my eyes to see
love does not belong in hands like these

in this corner I sit still but my thoughts never will"
  • Current Music
    Human Drama, a song of words without a tune