Contributors

I hate it when I feel this way. I always hope it will not return, but here I go again. Repost from 2006



Contributors

You have all contributed to my demise.

When you took my love and returned no heart
you contributed.

When you turned on me and spewed me with your hate.
you contributed.

When you falsely accused me of what I would never conceive
you contributed.

When you used your children and threw them up
you contributed.

What you left behind is a fractured shell.

I attempt to rebound , to lift up my head.

Just empty eyes remain. The spirit is dead.

db

Illusions

This is another from Ramblings. I am trying to write something fresh for next week. Something not so dark. We will see.












Illusions


How can I sit here pretending.

When I really want to scream.

How can I fake it.

The thought to me is obscene.

The daily act of living,

is too much sometimes to bear.

Maybe I could just smile and nod.

Let them think I care.


db
original post 12-08-2001

It's Not That Easy To Die

It's Not That Easy To Die

Mama wouldn't like it if I left a mess.
People want to see your face when you are laid to rest.
I could try and hit the heart, but I might miss.
Way too much blood, if you go for the wrist.
Drugs might not be that easy to trace, but I don't want to die with vomit in my face.
I guess I'll give it another try.
It's not that easy to die.

db

original post 12-08-2001

Wallbanger

WALLBANGER

The highs are as bad as the lows
Like a speed freak on a jones
Bouncing off the walls
Unknowingly clenching my jaws
I feel I'm moving too fast
My future is quickly becoming my past
I'm tired and I want to rest
First I must finish this
Cosmo personality test.

db
original post 12-08-2001

I'm Nobody! Who Are You?

I'm Nobody! Who are you? by Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you -- Nobody -- Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise -- you know!

How dreary -- to be -- Somebody!
How public -- like a Frog --
To tell one's name -- the livelong June --
To an admiring Bog!

Last Flowers - Radiohead Music Video

Lyrics:
Last Flowers
appliances have gone berserk
i cannot keep up
treading on people's toes
snot-nosed little punk
and i can't face the evening straight
you can offer me escape
houses move and houses speak
if you take me there you'll get relief, relief, relief, relief
and if i'm gonna talk
i just want to talk
please don't interrupt
just sit back and listen
cos i can't face the evening straight
you can offer me escape
houses move and houses speak
if you take me there you'll get relief, relief, relief, relief
relief, relief
it's too much, too bright, too powerful
too much, too bright, too powerful
too much, too bright, too powerful
too much, too bright, too powerful

Why Ask Why?

In our efforts to organise and ease our personal lives on earth, we have disorganised and caused unease in the universe. The longer I live the more I see how truly stupid and useless we are in the massive scheme of things and am even more confused by the question my brain continually asks, "Why are we here?" I do believe in God. I have been touched and assisted more than once, but that doesn't clear up any confusion, it just creates more questions. I know I will not find an answer to the big questions and it is best for my mental stability to not ask or think them.
It is so much easier to just wrap myself up in TV & books, lose myself in someone else's mind, but what if I am supposed to be doing something important and I am sitting and wasting away in front of a TV/computer or game when I am needed elsewhere. Is it too late?

Feeling Alright

I am back. Dead eyes have gone quickly. If I could just dig out of this. I have always been able to pick myself up and dust myself off, as the song goes, but circumstances are out of my control this time. Or are they? I will find a way.

Saul Bellow

There is an immense, painful longing for a broader, more flexible, fuller, more coherent, more comprehensive account of what we human beings are, who we are and what this life is for.
Saul Bellow
Canadian born American novelist, 1915-2005

The Other Side of the Door

I hesitate before I open my bedroom door, but there is a need for coffee and the bathroom. My hand is on the knob. I take a breath that is more of a sigh. What will I find on the other side?

I hope I am wrong and today is a bright one, but more than likely, on the other side of the door, I will find dead and despondent eyes. A head that drops when I speak. A hand that wearily rises to block the eyes from seeing me. An action well practiced.

She will be sitting at the kitchen table , a pad full of numbers, stacks of overdue bills. The smell of an overflowing ashtray combining with the stench of despair. I can taste it. Chronic, chronic, chronic pain. snap, snarl, bite. Words are useless items when depression takes your sight.

It doesn't help to know that someone may be hesitating just outside my own bedroom door.
I turn and go back to my bed. Maybe I can hold off for just a moment more.

db

As Hope and Promise Fade - Chris Cornell