Withered Rose

...Ashes, ashes, they all fall DOWN...
2007-09-17 04:36:40 (UTC)

No hope, the end. (She wants to go home.)

December 11, 2006

rossgay acefay.

How can such a lifeless body cry?
Embodied with suffering, with no end in store,
there is no other side.
Stinging, burning, tingling, aching, pulsing,
shaking, swelling...
Welling with hot tears... making matters worse,
as she undyingly does.
She cannot go home. She cannot go home.
Letting out one scream after another,
with her lips entirely sealed.
Getting more silent with each higher pitch
she does (not) let out.
Aching further in her throat.
She cannot, she cannot go home.
She wishes she could erase her entire life.
Everything, gone.
Disagreeing with that awful phrase she had used before,
"It is better to feel pain than to feel nothing at all."
The joy, the love, all those pleasant feelings;
they say are worth
The heartache, the injuries, the pain
that comes along with the opposing.
But she no longer agrees. She cannot go home.
Still, I cannot go home.
She struggles to stay still, never winning the battle.
Squirming, writhing with disgust and frustration,
melting further into pits of hell in her mind and body.
What a lovely swim in the lake of fire.
Spreading, torturous flaring over her infectious form.
She cannot go home, she cannot go home.
Watching herself fall to nothing,
Yet unable to make herself just that.
Empty hope, she merely wishes to be erased.
Never to be realized, the end.


©
...withered rose...


HOTGRAPES.

I'm pretty sure I haven't posted this here yet.
I think I actually wrote it (spur of the moment) for a blog.
It usually never happened that way...
Anyway, I saw it and thought -
no wonder I can't write anymore,
I've said all I feel already!
Very much how I feel, still, and majority of the time.

Only.
Knee. Face. Ears.
At this moment...




Ad: