Wednesday, October 14, 2009
enervated
sometimes i feel tired. and then comes the inescapable feelings of remorse and complete exhaustion
there is never enough words to describe all the feelings within me that often morphs into spectors, haunting me when i wake up, and luring me back to sleep with the ever so soft, sweet hymns coming out of the lips of death.
for i realize, that we can never be immortal. death often irks around the corners of our lives, it's sordid humor and blithe conduct, a complete vilification to whatever is right. it is the instigator of destruction, what abrogates life, it's deletrious demeanors, looking ever so innocuous, as it often does, to tempt.
death tempted me and i fell.
and when i fall, death foments me to fall deeper and never wake up. what is there to always being on the ground? a thought, if not, fact which i often fail to condone. for i am just a victim of death, of darkness, of there never being a happily ever after, of despair, despondency.
death continues to perpetuate these ingenue feelings as long as i let it to and pretend, if not, defy whatever is the truth.
the truth often hurts but i do not want to be wounded, and so.
the world begins to fall apart.
and then i am left feeling enervated, with the biggest wounds of all.
sometimes i feel tired. and then comes the inescapable feelings of remorse and complete exhaustion
there is never enough words to describe all the feelings within me that often morphs into spectors, haunting me when i wake up, and luring me back to sleep with the ever so soft, sweet hymns coming out of the lips of death.
for i realize, that we can never be immortal. death often irks around the corners of our lives, it's sordid humor and blithe conduct, a complete vilification to whatever is right. it is the instigator of destruction, what abrogates life, it's deletrious demeanors, looking ever so innocuous, as it often does, to tempt.
death tempted me and i fell.
and when i fall, death foments me to fall deeper and never wake up. what is there to always being on the ground? a thought, if not, fact which i often fail to condone. for i am just a victim of death, of darkness, of there never being a happily ever after, of despair, despondency.
death continues to perpetuate these ingenue feelings as long as i let it to and pretend, if not, defy whatever is the truth.
the truth often hurts but i do not want to be wounded, and so.
the world begins to fall apart.
and then i am left feeling enervated, with the biggest wounds of all.
i love you most ardently, 6:17 PM.
