Thursday, October 07, 2010
Wrapped up in worlds that don't exist.
Left to starve for death as living is full of certain pain.
A thin veil between realities and fantasies...
I am nothing but this ~ wind blown sand and heavy rock.
As viewed through your eyes and touched by your hand.
A fading memory of yesterdays.
None of this is what I am.
But this, sad songs on headphones...
and this, words on the street.
Like a ghost returning to the scene of the crime...
villainified... prisoner to only yourself.
And the belief of who you are,
and who you really are.
Mortal. Make believe. Dead. Like God.
As far reached as so called truths
and liars who believe lies.
Self loathing, self preserving-
selfish fucking bitch!
You know it's true, as sure as I am a thief.
There is no relief in knowing.
and assumptious blatant disregard.
A friend who was never there when I truly needed them.
Wrapped up present unforgiving past-
you have betrayed us all.
With only ourselves to blame.
These worlds that don't exist
haunt my soul like a ghost I once loved.
And this which I am not, and all that I am have met.
But this, sad song will never end...
and this end like wind blown sand sinks like heavy rock...