Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Sept 22, 2011 2:49:40 GMT -5
A/N: ipod numero tres ~
I promise Tonight
Time no longer moves. We've lost the way
Or I have
somewhere between the warmth of his arm
and the sharpness of his tongue;
His reality cuts deeper than all of my dreams,
No, no -- my nightmares lie
in the disappointment in his eyes.
The expectation,
the heavy weight of our death intertwined
between our fighting hands.
The first to let go loses and I lose,
I lose. There is no more courage left here,
only the whimsical defense of childhood blocking the way
toward this path he wants to lead me down ----------
Where do we go?
Have we already turned back
or has it all become obsolete?
Will he never let go of the dead limb dragging him down
Or should I saw at it from time to time to test the bounds?
He can never be free; the tiny space between my heart
and my mind spans over lightyears;
we cannot comprehend.
Is that my voice or yours screaming over the span of a human life?
Has this become a game? How can a word become so convoluted?
How can my life hang in the balance when all I know is to lisp and slur?
He is right. I am right. It is time to
die.
September 15, 2011
I promise Tonight
Time no longer moves. We've lost the way
Or I have
somewhere between the warmth of his arm
and the sharpness of his tongue;
His reality cuts deeper than all of my dreams,
No, no -- my nightmares lie
in the disappointment in his eyes.
The expectation,
the heavy weight of our death intertwined
between our fighting hands.
The first to let go loses and I lose,
I lose. There is no more courage left here,
only the whimsical defense of childhood blocking the way
toward this path he wants to lead me down ----------
Where do we go?
Have we already turned back
or has it all become obsolete?
Will he never let go of the dead limb dragging him down
Or should I saw at it from time to time to test the bounds?
He can never be free; the tiny space between my heart
and my mind spans over lightyears;
we cannot comprehend.
Is that my voice or yours screaming over the span of a human life?
Has this become a game? How can a word become so convoluted?
How can my life hang in the balance when all I know is to lisp and slur?
He is right. I am right. It is time to
die.
September 15, 2011