Our 'love' is a wasteland of lies; of promises made in vain; of past, present, and future nothingness; spoiling and rotting in the pit of my chest.
Our 'love' is a forgotten song lyric; sitting upon a page; waiting to be sung.
Our 'love' is a lost child; waiting to be welcomed home; scared of never being found.
Our 'love' is an open wound; oozing pain; wanting to be cared for; afraid of infection.
Our 'love' is an ancient treasure; buried beneath fear; waiting to be discovered..
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
1-800-SUICIDE
She picks up the phone and dial's frantically
the operator picks up, "hi, what's your emergency?"
she's hitting herself on the head, forcing the words to come together
scratching and shaking despite the stickily humid weather
taking a deep breath and relieving it just as quickly
she glimpses herself in the mirror, so pale and sickly
the operator speaks calmly, "ma'am, are you there?"
she ignores her words and instead pulls on her hair
another deep breath and she finally comes out with it
"i'm gonna end it tonight, i'm so sick of this shit"
"you're sick of what, miss? what are you going to end?"
she screams loudly "stop pretending to be my fucking friend!"
an awkward silence and the operator asks for her name
"what do you need to know for? i'll pass if it's all the same"
the operator okays it and rattles off some more questions
none of which are answered so she follows up with suggestions
"maybe I can help you, why dont you tell me what's wrong?"
she replies with "why not? but I haven't got too long"
the operator says "why is that, have you some place to be?"
she sits quietly and then "with the one who made me"
"what are you talking about, ma'am, what have you done?"
in a voice free of feeling she says "the devil has won"
she's doped up on pills and God knows what else
heavy with the guilt of what she's done to herself
she walks out through her door and to the balcony ahead
climbs upon the base, looking down, arms spread
"hey, thanks for listening but i've got to go now"
the operator begins to fidget, wiping sweat from her brow
she stands unsteadily, moving closer to the edge
the operator begins shouting, trying to move her from the ledge
"i have no one left" she says as she feels the wind whip through her hair
as she plunges to her death the operator mumbles the words "i care"..
the operator picks up, "hi, what's your emergency?"
she's hitting herself on the head, forcing the words to come together
scratching and shaking despite the stickily humid weather
taking a deep breath and relieving it just as quickly
she glimpses herself in the mirror, so pale and sickly
the operator speaks calmly, "ma'am, are you there?"
she ignores her words and instead pulls on her hair
another deep breath and she finally comes out with it
"i'm gonna end it tonight, i'm so sick of this shit"
"you're sick of what, miss? what are you going to end?"
she screams loudly "stop pretending to be my fucking friend!"
an awkward silence and the operator asks for her name
"what do you need to know for? i'll pass if it's all the same"
the operator okays it and rattles off some more questions
none of which are answered so she follows up with suggestions
"maybe I can help you, why dont you tell me what's wrong?"
she replies with "why not? but I haven't got too long"
the operator says "why is that, have you some place to be?"
she sits quietly and then "with the one who made me"
"what are you talking about, ma'am, what have you done?"
in a voice free of feeling she says "the devil has won"
she's doped up on pills and God knows what else
heavy with the guilt of what she's done to herself
she walks out through her door and to the balcony ahead
climbs upon the base, looking down, arms spread
"hey, thanks for listening but i've got to go now"
the operator begins to fidget, wiping sweat from her brow
she stands unsteadily, moving closer to the edge
the operator begins shouting, trying to move her from the ledge
"i have no one left" she says as she feels the wind whip through her hair
as she plunges to her death the operator mumbles the words "i care"..
Who Do You Trust? - Old Poem.
Who do you trust?
when you feel as though you can trust no one
and just when you think one thing is over, another has begun
when so called friends go behind your back and lie
and the person supposed to care about you causes you to cry
when the tears that fall only bring you more pain
and the pain you feel starts to drive you insane
when the insanity only causes you to feel hurt
and the hurt makes you feel like your worth is dirt
when the dirt you walk on couldn't possibly feel like you do
i'll tell you who you trust; the only person you trust is YOU.
when you feel as though you can trust no one
and just when you think one thing is over, another has begun
when so called friends go behind your back and lie
and the person supposed to care about you causes you to cry
when the tears that fall only bring you more pain
and the pain you feel starts to drive you insane
when the insanity only causes you to feel hurt
and the hurt makes you feel like your worth is dirt
when the dirt you walk on couldn't possibly feel like you do
i'll tell you who you trust; the only person you trust is YOU.
Love is the Movement.
LOVE is the MOVEMENT; LOVE is a REVOLUTION
This is REDEMPTION; We don't have to slow back down.
-Switchfoot, Love is the Movement
The site.
http://www.twloha.comThe story.
http://www.twloha.com/the_story.php
Visit. You won't be disappointed.
ツ
You've Got Mail.
From: Lamarr W.
To: Tameeria S-W.
Date: 20 Jul 2008 11:23:16
Subject: Storm..
No amount of makeup, fake hair, fake EYELASHES, or angles can make me think any of those girls are prettier than you. It took a lot of camera work and photoshop to make them even look like that. But you wake up in the morning and you give me this lopsided, still half-sleepy smile that I fell in love with a long time ago. And then you yawn in front of the mirror and I watch your reflection..the way your hair lifts and then falls down your back when you stretch. Sometimes I wanna ask you to do it all over again so I can get my fix twice in one day. The point I'm trying to make to you is that I don't think you're beautiful because of the way you look, but because there's a beauty in everything you do. I wish you'd stop looking at pictures I take of girls that worked their whole life to try and look like something they seen on magazines and just realize that you have that and more without even trying. Now stop being a baby and come open your door and kiss me. NOW.
MY BFFITWGW. <3
(best fucking friend in the whole goddamn world)
To: Tameeria S-W.
Date: 20 Jul 2008 11:23:16
Subject: Storm..
No amount of makeup, fake hair, fake EYELASHES, or angles can make me think any of those girls are prettier than you. It took a lot of camera work and photoshop to make them even look like that. But you wake up in the morning and you give me this lopsided, still half-sleepy smile that I fell in love with a long time ago. And then you yawn in front of the mirror and I watch your reflection..the way your hair lifts and then falls down your back when you stretch. Sometimes I wanna ask you to do it all over again so I can get my fix twice in one day. The point I'm trying to make to you is that I don't think you're beautiful because of the way you look, but because there's a beauty in everything you do. I wish you'd stop looking at pictures I take of girls that worked their whole life to try and look like something they seen on magazines and just realize that you have that and more without even trying. Now stop being a baby and come open your door and kiss me. NOW.
MY BFFITWGW. <3
(best fucking friend in the whole goddamn world)
Friday, July 18, 2008
<3
There's a girl i know with a face as beautiful as rain; a lingering look will have your mind playing tricks like david blaine; she is the embodiment of beauty, the epitome of purity; carries herself like a lady, never one for immaturity; she's an angel, banished to this forsaken place we call earth; surrounded by ingrates who can't grasp her worth; but beneath her glowing exterior lies more; a heart of pure gold you can't help but adore; it blazes surely through her pellucid eyes; they grip you, take you, and leave you mesmerized; her voice trickles from a mouth built to torment; flowing like satin through a slight accent; her body trails in a continous progression like the nile; making every moment spent staring worthwhile; she blessed this world with her earthbound descent; a phsycial being that could make the most nonreligious man repent.. (to be continued?)
for my myla.
=]
for my myla.
=]
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