Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Sept 24, 2011 21:48:20 GMT -5
Narcolepsy & Lycanthropy
I've changed again from the girl who didn't care
to the girl who cared too much
and now this:
this new face I see in the mirror
full of wrinkles.
Finding age and anxiety are wrapped tight
around her voice. We choke; or do we dream?
The jailers are snoring tonight,
but she remains awake, fingers twined
around wires, and cords;
eyes unfocused, counting time
by each insurmountable breath. The slightest
sound thunders through her bones.
They sleep; the prisoner watches on and on.
What are these shadows we can now hold in our hand?
Why do these emotions deprive,
and these songs remind?
I've caught of glimpse of a past darling in my skin
staring out from the worry in those colorful eyes.
Will my hair curl on the ends?
I should laugh to see myself so!
To finally understand,
to be walking around wondering, always,
wondering.
Seeking, always,
the slightest scent that led to
my master
to my home,
temporary, permanent -- there is eternity
in his arms. If only I found the beginning again.
"I'm addicted to you,"
It hurts, like a blade, to the heart --
the needle to which the compass of our passion
is set.
Inevitably, the drug is abandoned
Will I, too, be abandoned? The nasty needle
thrown away the more this distance
eludes our understanding?
Hah! Hah!
What a fitting end to this notorious drug.
What is love but filth and addiction?
September 24, 2011
I've changed again from the girl who didn't care
to the girl who cared too much
and now this:
this new face I see in the mirror
full of wrinkles.
Finding age and anxiety are wrapped tight
around her voice. We choke; or do we dream?
The jailers are snoring tonight,
but she remains awake, fingers twined
around wires, and cords;
eyes unfocused, counting time
by each insurmountable breath. The slightest
sound thunders through her bones.
They sleep; the prisoner watches on and on.
What are these shadows we can now hold in our hand?
Why do these emotions deprive,
and these songs remind?
I've caught of glimpse of a past darling in my skin
staring out from the worry in those colorful eyes.
Will my hair curl on the ends?
I should laugh to see myself so!
To finally understand,
to be walking around wondering, always,
wondering.
Seeking, always,
the slightest scent that led to
my master
to my home,
temporary, permanent -- there is eternity
in his arms. If only I found the beginning again.
"I'm addicted to you,"
It hurts, like a blade, to the heart --
the needle to which the compass of our passion
is set.
Inevitably, the drug is abandoned
Will I, too, be abandoned? The nasty needle
thrown away the more this distance
eludes our understanding?
Hah! Hah!
What a fitting end to this notorious drug.
What is love but filth and addiction?
September 24, 2011