Raskolnikov
Bluelighter
What's Up,
In case you were wondering this is a response to BC's anaylsis to love. It's pretty damn good you should check his work out too. Well, here it goes.
The Search
Lying on the ground,
Uttering not a single sound,
Gasping for breath,
The sporatic rise and fall
Of my breast somehow revives me.
And I'm alive again.
Once more consciously driven
By my desire.
Which will prove problematic
Cause I share my form with an attic
In this dutiful desire.
But now I tire
And wish to retire.
Receeding from this dependance
Because this very wish
For solution to my curiousity,
For resolution of my lonesomicity,
For Love,
Is the cause of corruption
And erruption within the unconscious.
It's why I'M on the floor
Feeling so damn sore.
Yet, I reach more and more
Feebly seeking rapture
From some stare, Sighted
Out the corner of my eye.
I search each face I pass,
Hoping to catch at least a glimpse
Of that most phantasmagorical feeling.
And if it's there, it'll never last,
Fleeing with a gentle breeze,
Teasing and tormenting
This tension in the line.
But there's no answer
To be found.
The line is taught
But it ought noot be severed
Or else that curious weave of weights and levers
Will just unravel from the tether.
Allowing chaos more control over my soul.
I was in love, once,
You Know
Ahhh, but that was long ago
In a different time
Written in decrepit rhyme.
Anyway, it was not all sublime.
Crime ran rampant then as well.
a different line of tension
Causing similar demention (dementia).
I want to stop staring needfully
At leaves twirling through the air.
This devious desire draws me to darkness
Merely, stunting my strength.
Teach me
To See
Contently,
Through this window of misery.
So, that's what I think of love at this point in my life. I'll admit, it's kind of bleak, but that's what i've seen so far. Basically, I just want to toss it all out the damn window. Whatever, it's just life and nothing more.
Peace Out
Russell
In case you were wondering this is a response to BC's anaylsis to love. It's pretty damn good you should check his work out too. Well, here it goes.
The Search
Lying on the ground,
Uttering not a single sound,
Gasping for breath,
The sporatic rise and fall
Of my breast somehow revives me.
And I'm alive again.
Once more consciously driven
By my desire.
Which will prove problematic
Cause I share my form with an attic
In this dutiful desire.
But now I tire
And wish to retire.
Receeding from this dependance
Because this very wish
For solution to my curiousity,
For resolution of my lonesomicity,
For Love,
Is the cause of corruption
And erruption within the unconscious.
It's why I'M on the floor
Feeling so damn sore.
Yet, I reach more and more
Feebly seeking rapture
From some stare, Sighted
Out the corner of my eye.
I search each face I pass,
Hoping to catch at least a glimpse
Of that most phantasmagorical feeling.
And if it's there, it'll never last,
Fleeing with a gentle breeze,
Teasing and tormenting
This tension in the line.
But there's no answer
To be found.
The line is taught
But it ought noot be severed
Or else that curious weave of weights and levers
Will just unravel from the tether.
Allowing chaos more control over my soul.
I was in love, once,
You Know
Ahhh, but that was long ago
In a different time
Written in decrepit rhyme.
Anyway, it was not all sublime.
Crime ran rampant then as well.
a different line of tension
Causing similar demention (dementia).
I want to stop staring needfully
At leaves twirling through the air.
This devious desire draws me to darkness
Merely, stunting my strength.
Teach me
To See
Contently,
Through this window of misery.
So, that's what I think of love at this point in my life. I'll admit, it's kind of bleak, but that's what i've seen so far. Basically, I just want to toss it all out the damn window. Whatever, it's just life and nothing more.
Peace Out
Russell
