<body>Psychomantium of the mind; To see, to write.
Beyond the mirror, beyond Oceanus
lies the ever elusive yet inevitable realm of Elysium. Attainable before the passing, yet only via the reflections of our inner thoughts. For only within can we find true redemption or true death. In the twilight hours before our time, we would thus pen and construct, a psychomantium of regret and forlorn hope, the leavings of many a consciousness.
Friends forever. You told me that. Its really aching, look, a stray cat. Purring as it goes, bleeding as i.. nevermind, Why did it end this way, did you start out with this in mind?
First day, your looks hid your self. I thought you were others, i was wrong. Well, i THOUGHT i was wrong, was i? Nope, not after what you did to me.
I was right all along. I never trusted myself. People say "my heart is aching", I never believed in that. How wrong could i be?... Very.
Its like some void, I feel my whole life being sucked in. Watch out for the kitten's claws. You don't see them? Oh wait, i forgot, it is always hidden. It doesn't merely scratch by the way, it tears.
Right open in the middle.
It sounds dramatic, but this time, my heart is glass. She grabbed it right out through the flesh. Smashed it out of anger, or so she says. Kitty kitty, ARE YOU MAD?
A glass globe turned upside down. "Fuck you", the little figure in it yells. It hurts.. Really.
I see you again. I.....
Cry.
-Cynnn
beauty is as beauty does; we write what we think
Monday, August 6, 2007
Quietus
Through half-opened eyes I viewed The empty plains and endless hills
A prayer, engraved upon my headstone On the sublime mountains I climbed In search of another view.
Solitairy footsteps I found Upon the beach
Yet the sand beneath my feet I stirred, no longer.
Boundless ocean-sky Of oil and canvas Of such similarity Yet of such difference. Embracing the horizon Yet eternally parallel.
A song that beckons Beyond that sea of unconsciousness That resounds through time and space A beautifully cruel melody
The sounds of sadness That accompanies us at our birth At our death A requiem For the minute speck of existence
I gaze at the cloudless sky Where art thou, nimbus? Lest thou seekest same as mine?
victor-y Aaaaaa. Still waiting for my lit journal. rawr. -Schmier
beauty is as beauty does; we write what we think
Porcelain in the ashes
I am in pain but calm comes, liberates my heart. Everytime my spirit soothed. Silence that does not bite, and pushes not your heart. I shall stare the thorn in the eye, in the eye. Immovable perhaps but my spirit is alive.
