mephisto_so7
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2001
- Messages
- 20
this has been in the works for awhile. i've used bits and phrases in other pieces.
Old places fade hard, and no matter how long
You row upstream, the water still makes waves
That carry the rest of us away.
You are what you weep, from your head down to the sleet.
Fell, tripped up the stairs to the place
Void in all hints of home.
Watch with you heart, run with your gut, ever so careful
Not to lose the fragile beauties of motivation.
A whir of warning winds signal be back to birth.
Watch with your heart, run with your gut, ever so careful
Not to lose your mold.
"They laughed to all the intrusive music,
The noise awakened me from a ficton-based nap,
They killed me when I couldn't be a source of entertainment,
Strung like a puppet to every degree of debt
In social contribution to the migraine."
Our fight keeps using a voice that needs rekindling,
I promised wet weather to myself
From the moment I set foot into my own autopsy,
Past all the shimmer, beyond the urine-stenched conglomerates
Of those without a set of eyes to make contact with.
There is but the utter of all necessaries,
Pushing that once brimming light through
The dregs of life,
A necessity that leaves me short of breath in the end.
Watch with your heart, run with your gut.
Primate winds blow me back to old bloodstreams.
-djb.
[This message has been edited by mephisto_so7 (edited 23 March 2001).]
Old places fade hard, and no matter how long
You row upstream, the water still makes waves
That carry the rest of us away.
You are what you weep, from your head down to the sleet.
Fell, tripped up the stairs to the place
Void in all hints of home.
Watch with you heart, run with your gut, ever so careful
Not to lose the fragile beauties of motivation.
A whir of warning winds signal be back to birth.
Watch with your heart, run with your gut, ever so careful
Not to lose your mold.
"They laughed to all the intrusive music,
The noise awakened me from a ficton-based nap,
They killed me when I couldn't be a source of entertainment,
Strung like a puppet to every degree of debt
In social contribution to the migraine."
Our fight keeps using a voice that needs rekindling,
I promised wet weather to myself
From the moment I set foot into my own autopsy,
Past all the shimmer, beyond the urine-stenched conglomerates
Of those without a set of eyes to make contact with.
There is but the utter of all necessaries,
Pushing that once brimming light through
The dregs of life,
A necessity that leaves me short of breath in the end.
Watch with your heart, run with your gut.
Primate winds blow me back to old bloodstreams.
-djb.
[This message has been edited by mephisto_so7 (edited 23 March 2001).]
