Post by Reathon on Jan 28, 2004 18:53:19 GMT -5
My ice water eyes had peered open once more to this world of pretend, disappointed by the fact I was still alive. Ambiguites circled throughout my head as I lie here like so many times before. My breath had cast shadows between the fine lines of the air.I Woke up in a dream, as life swept by, my dream slipped away with it. Like the dream that you start to forget as soon as you awaken. It didn't matter now, I have already forgotten it. I woken up in a world of pretend in a place that I cannot feel. Waiting alone I cannot resist feeling this hate that I have never missed wishing for the warmth of the dream I cannot recelect, but still feeling the place of belonging that it reqirued. The bed saturated in an endevor of crimson paint from my last suidide attempt. The razor still at hand withering away, taunting me for satisfaction. The scare slowly revealed through my homely cotton clothing. It was an inlaceration to the wrist done by the rustic razor evermore inbedded into my palm. Looking to please, cuts cascaded down from my left wrist, all telling the same stories the same. I am certain that my right had matched. The stench of the pouring of my soul filled the room with an eiree presence. It might as well have been two or three days since I fell out of consiencness. Still the warmth that the dream delivered gave me a reason to live or maybe it was my reason to die. Lieing here I hoped I would never have to say my words that were never missed.
"Why do I Have to live," expressed with a sigh of regret.
Roting away in my cold blood deeply sorry for holding back when I could of ended this all. Nevermore, I fell upwards out of bed and stumbled to catch my footings were my own blood had filled this floor of pretend. Walls of swimming red had been twirling around as I broke upwards. Enlightened that what was forced out of my soul had filled the room, if nothing else. My bloodsoaked boots had now been tarnished with mahogany promise instead of gleeming white with impurity. My hair once dirty blonde had been soiled with the same. Everwhere around this decaying adobe house was bloodshed of past mistakes and guilt. Still dressed with the same roquelaure as when my faliure of my last act of individuality, was now fatigued in a massacre of red and sky blue. I droped the blood ridden blade into my saturated pocket so later today I could use it again. The blood driped acidic questions around me, and onto the mercyless floor of fantasy. I could barely sparsly hold my head above my neck, which has also been scared. For a brief second I could look at the luccrane and picture the snow and the guilt laid upon it. I instinctively decided to go to the tavern to drink my problems away, and once more be born as numb. At least in numbness I didn't feel this way and my conciquences would die as I wish I could. Draging my feet behind and feeling the weight left over from my hate crimes I started to make my way to the tavern. Slidingly my boots I broke the dried blood and created ripples left by its wake. I binged out the door stumbling to keep balance. It was evedentily night and the bitter wind added to my spirit. Smoky breath had polluted the air and left a trail where I had gone. Walking down the decelant streets of Toroping city, decay had risen to my foot wear as I traveled the dirtswept path. Streetlights had echoed my destination through my long and drewry way. I kept my head low because it was a part of me, and not because I didn't have a choice. A little period later I hade made my way to the local tavern. The confinments of the place were grimly lite. Shadowy figures sat all around with there drinks all staring silently. The reminincing eyes bared down on me as weight I was forced to carry again.
"Why do I Have to live," expressed with a sigh of regret.
Roting away in my cold blood deeply sorry for holding back when I could of ended this all. Nevermore, I fell upwards out of bed and stumbled to catch my footings were my own blood had filled this floor of pretend. Walls of swimming red had been twirling around as I broke upwards. Enlightened that what was forced out of my soul had filled the room, if nothing else. My bloodsoaked boots had now been tarnished with mahogany promise instead of gleeming white with impurity. My hair once dirty blonde had been soiled with the same. Everwhere around this decaying adobe house was bloodshed of past mistakes and guilt. Still dressed with the same roquelaure as when my faliure of my last act of individuality, was now fatigued in a massacre of red and sky blue. I droped the blood ridden blade into my saturated pocket so later today I could use it again. The blood driped acidic questions around me, and onto the mercyless floor of fantasy. I could barely sparsly hold my head above my neck, which has also been scared. For a brief second I could look at the luccrane and picture the snow and the guilt laid upon it. I instinctively decided to go to the tavern to drink my problems away, and once more be born as numb. At least in numbness I didn't feel this way and my conciquences would die as I wish I could. Draging my feet behind and feeling the weight left over from my hate crimes I started to make my way to the tavern. Slidingly my boots I broke the dried blood and created ripples left by its wake. I binged out the door stumbling to keep balance. It was evedentily night and the bitter wind added to my spirit. Smoky breath had polluted the air and left a trail where I had gone. Walking down the decelant streets of Toroping city, decay had risen to my foot wear as I traveled the dirtswept path. Streetlights had echoed my destination through my long and drewry way. I kept my head low because it was a part of me, and not because I didn't have a choice. A little period later I hade made my way to the local tavern. The confinments of the place were grimly lite. Shadowy figures sat all around with there drinks all staring silently. The reminincing eyes bared down on me as weight I was forced to carry again.