Burning Horizon
by me(whatever)
to this song: Takuro Yoshida- Ningen Nante
Something is beyond that horizon
it taunts me with the face of the setting sun
Swigging down my drink,
wiping my nose on my sleeve,
the ending light refracts in the bottle
Twisting the scene into blurry shapes.
Nothing is enough,
soon this miserable life will come to an end.
Yet, something is wrong here.
I'm suddenly feeling the urge to piss
over the bones of dead animals,
and the shedding of rattlesnakes.
Skin tanned by the heat of that blazing sphere,
Sweat perspiring on my forehead.
Holding the rope of choice in my left hand,
Squinting against the sand.
No clouds floating in the sky,
just a light blue like a sunburnt ocean.
Statues of horned demons stare to an unreachable heaven,
scurrying against the heat of the judgement of hell.
Things I never understood.
Whatever this existence was meant for
its stays buried
against that burning horizon.
And I take another swig.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Everytime, Trying to Believe
Considering that I don't really want to even write anything at the moment, what am I doing on here? I think it might be a habit, or I'm just unconsciously lying. I don't even have much to talk about. The only thing I think of when I try and write on this blog is poetry. That's why there's so much of that..
I've been listening to the song 'The only Exception' by Paramore. I can relate to it so much that it's scary. There was a point in my life that I did not believe in love at all. It's hard for me to believe that the romance type of love lasts, even if it isn't just an illusion of the mind somehow. ..I dunno. All I know, is that, everything in this life can never stay unchanging. I've never wanted to admit it before, but I hate changes; a lot of them. I hate growing older, and I hate saying goodbye to my childhood. I hate forgetting. When I was a kid, I believed in everything unwaveringly; almost foolishly. I believed in Santa Claus until I was 8. I was sick mentally when I figured out the presents from him were just bought by my mom and put under the tree at the last moment. Every time one of my fantasies break, I'm left feeling sick in my stomach, like some type of shock syndrome. I wonder if I'll be able to adapt to these things more easily later on...I hope so at least.
Whenever I write 'every time', I always want to put it as one word= everytime. Here comes my mistake fetish. Even if I do something like this, if I spell it like this, it's still correct to me, even if it isn't to other people or that stupid spell check. People always want to put things into the categories of right and wrong, to the point that it limits freedom. Why can't I just do things my own way? We've put too many rules on society, hoping that they will run our lives smoother. We depend on limitations to keep ourselves within the lines. We depend on limitations to see how far we've come. We depend on limitations to give ourselves an excuse. We depend on limitations to compare ourselves to others. We depend on limitations to limit. I'm sick of thinking like this. It's all I ever do. Aren't I useful in anything?
I look at couples. I look at my grandparents, and I think, "Is that what true love looks like?" But somehow I look at them, and I doubt. I don't think I would ever want to be in their position.
Can I even being considered human anymore? To not know what love is anymore.. I knew when I was a kid. I was so funny, and whenever I think of it I get embarrassed. There was one time a million years ago when I gave myself this project; that while my sister was away for one week I would give her a thousand letters telling her how much I loved her. I pretty much succeeded, and there were piles by the time she got back. I included my little brothers in the project too. It's been a few years, and I just barely got some of them back from my sister who was doing a little light cleaning. They are incredibly hilarious and embarrassing, to say the least. But when I look at them, I somehow feel happy. Massed produced copies of love telling letters that I hardly cared for then, yet they are so precious now, and irreplaceable. What does time do to things and people?
I wonder if I'll come up with an answer. Or, rather, my answer.
It's either that, or loneliness forever.
I can say,
I'm
sick
of
that.
Argh.
I'm bored today.
Can't think.
On my way to believing?
I wonder.
I hope so.
I want to be...
Well, either way, I have come further than I started out. I have people I care for.
I've been listening to the song 'The only Exception' by Paramore. I can relate to it so much that it's scary. There was a point in my life that I did not believe in love at all. It's hard for me to believe that the romance type of love lasts, even if it isn't just an illusion of the mind somehow. ..I dunno. All I know, is that, everything in this life can never stay unchanging. I've never wanted to admit it before, but I hate changes; a lot of them. I hate growing older, and I hate saying goodbye to my childhood. I hate forgetting. When I was a kid, I believed in everything unwaveringly; almost foolishly. I believed in Santa Claus until I was 8. I was sick mentally when I figured out the presents from him were just bought by my mom and put under the tree at the last moment. Every time one of my fantasies break, I'm left feeling sick in my stomach, like some type of shock syndrome. I wonder if I'll be able to adapt to these things more easily later on...I hope so at least.
Whenever I write 'every time', I always want to put it as one word= everytime. Here comes my mistake fetish. Even if I do something like this, if I spell it like this, it's still correct to me, even if it isn't to other people or that stupid spell check. People always want to put things into the categories of right and wrong, to the point that it limits freedom. Why can't I just do things my own way? We've put too many rules on society, hoping that they will run our lives smoother. We depend on limitations to keep ourselves within the lines. We depend on limitations to see how far we've come. We depend on limitations to give ourselves an excuse. We depend on limitations to compare ourselves to others. We depend on limitations to limit. I'm sick of thinking like this. It's all I ever do. Aren't I useful in anything?
I look at couples. I look at my grandparents, and I think, "Is that what true love looks like?" But somehow I look at them, and I doubt. I don't think I would ever want to be in their position.
Can I even being considered human anymore? To not know what love is anymore.. I knew when I was a kid. I was so funny, and whenever I think of it I get embarrassed. There was one time a million years ago when I gave myself this project; that while my sister was away for one week I would give her a thousand letters telling her how much I loved her. I pretty much succeeded, and there were piles by the time she got back. I included my little brothers in the project too. It's been a few years, and I just barely got some of them back from my sister who was doing a little light cleaning. They are incredibly hilarious and embarrassing, to say the least. But when I look at them, I somehow feel happy. Massed produced copies of love telling letters that I hardly cared for then, yet they are so precious now, and irreplaceable. What does time do to things and people?
I wonder if I'll come up with an answer. Or, rather, my answer.
It's either that, or loneliness forever.
I can say,
I'm
sick
of
that.
Argh.
I'm bored today.
Can't think.
On my way to believing?
I wonder.
I hope so.
I want to be...
Well, either way, I have come further than I started out. I have people I care for.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Steel Stairs
Steel Stairs
by me(whatever)
to this song: Now or Never
I flop up these steel stairs.
Each step leading to heaven.
Never found.
I stare at the barbed holes
through to the ground far away.
"You may lean on me"
when did I remember such a thing?
Why?
There is silence all around me,
I climb and climb
holding desperately onto the rail.
A voice ahead of me,
I rush to separate a past from the future.
I can only think of this existence.
Between the lines
Eyes all around,
I feel them bearing me down.
Starting to run,
I realize the panting of breaths
are counting down.
Invisible hand
pulls me up this unending staircase.
I can't live alone,
like this.
Take me with you.
The snow falls,
the autumn winds,
spring rains
our summer.
Pushing the replay on my life,
I'm reliving every single moment
in each of these steps I climb.
I searched for a light to the future,
when I finally found you
through sweat, blood, tears,
you slipped away.
I halt on the steel,
staring at the sky backwards to the aether.
I will find you once again.
all the wounds littering this worthless body
I've lost everything
From the top of the building
I stare out to heaven.
Our heaven.
"Don't give up yet,"
I lean out.
My heart is fluttering
like a swallow in its cage
I will open the door,
let it fly
to heaven to meet once again
you and your beautiful voice.
"Stop."
"Don't run"
"Keep on"
A breeze flows out from the cracks in the landscape
I breathe in.
My eyes closed.
Ears open.
This is my life.
Sliding down the banister.
Replaying each of those steps.
I came this far
Only to fall
Where are you?
I don't know where to find you.
Just a smile,
just a glance
just a touch
just a sound
Give me a hint,
where have you hidden?
in this hide-and-seek game
we've been playing
all our lives.
One more step,
and over the ledge.
Running to you
falling to heaven.
I won't die yet,
even if the skin covering me
shrivels up and permeates.
Leave it all behind.
Sliding down the banister.
down,
down,
down,
away from the steel steps.
Here,
we begin again.
This was the truth,
in your teary eyes
that day.
There will always be a way.
Again,
Again.
No matter how many times we're lost.
We'll keep living.
no matter how many times we're destroyed.
down,
down
down.
Sliding down the banister.
Two swallows in the sky.
by me(whatever)
to this song: Now or Never
I flop up these steel stairs.
Each step leading to heaven.
Never found.
I stare at the barbed holes
through to the ground far away.
"You may lean on me"
when did I remember such a thing?
Why?
There is silence all around me,
I climb and climb
holding desperately onto the rail.
A voice ahead of me,
I rush to separate a past from the future.
I can only think of this existence.
Between the lines
Eyes all around,
I feel them bearing me down.
Starting to run,
I realize the panting of breaths
are counting down.
Invisible hand
pulls me up this unending staircase.
I can't live alone,
like this.
Take me with you.
The snow falls,
the autumn winds,
spring rains
our summer.
Pushing the replay on my life,
I'm reliving every single moment
in each of these steps I climb.
I searched for a light to the future,
when I finally found you
through sweat, blood, tears,
you slipped away.
I halt on the steel,
staring at the sky backwards to the aether.
I will find you once again.
all the wounds littering this worthless body
I've lost everything
From the top of the building
I stare out to heaven.
Our heaven.
"Don't give up yet,"
I lean out.
My heart is fluttering
like a swallow in its cage
I will open the door,
let it fly
to heaven to meet once again
you and your beautiful voice.
"Stop."
"Don't run"
"Keep on"
A breeze flows out from the cracks in the landscape
I breathe in.
My eyes closed.
Ears open.
This is my life.
Sliding down the banister.
Replaying each of those steps.
I came this far
Only to fall
Where are you?
I don't know where to find you.
Just a smile,
just a glance
just a touch
just a sound
Give me a hint,
where have you hidden?
in this hide-and-seek game
we've been playing
all our lives.
One more step,
and over the ledge.
Running to you
falling to heaven.
I won't die yet,
even if the skin covering me
shrivels up and permeates.
Leave it all behind.
Sliding down the banister.
down,
down,
down,
away from the steel steps.
Here,
we begin again.
This was the truth,
in your teary eyes
that day.
There will always be a way.
Again,
Again.
No matter how many times we're lost.
We'll keep living.
no matter how many times we're destroyed.
down,
down
down.
Sliding down the banister.
Two swallows in the sky.
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