VoicesWhen I was younger, my head used to be full of voices - constant whispers of stories yet to be born.More Like This
They'd keep me awake at night, forcing their way out through my hand on the paper - and only when everything was said and done, they'd be silent for a few moments for me to sleep.
When I tried to concentrate, they'd take me to lands far away, seducing me with adventures noone had ever heard of.
Sometimes I wished they'd leave me alone.
But as the years passed...
I worked more and dreamt less.
I learnt to concentrate on what I had to do.
And when I went to bed, I forced myself to sleep when I had to get up early the next day.
I grew up.
Now my head's a quiet place.
Neatly stacked with facts, knowledge and responsibilities.
And even when I try, I can't hear the whispering voices anymore.
And I feel so lonely without them.
I live my life.
And sometimes, I think I'd give it all up, just to hear the whispers one more time.
My head used to be full of voices...
Allies...You told me today that you had some news.More Like This
You my dearest friend, would be leaving soon--
as in leaving this world altogether.
The docs said your illness had gone too far,
and now, you could no longer face the pain.
I cannot make up your mind for you, my old chum.
The cancer is killing you, and me as well.
For in your pain-and-hurt, my stress level rises.
But, we need never face your end-time alone.
After all, we are allies--and we fight unto death.
The Reaper is an old friend of our's, very old--
and we never need fear for his coming to take us home.
As I hold your hand--one that once touched my cheek
with love that was never truly destined to be--
I swear that I will never desert you, my old friend.
I do not judge you, if you wish to send yourself
gently into that good night found in the Void.
You've suffered enough hurt, and my only wish
is that I could spare you even more pain & torture...
but if your end must come by your hand, then so be it.
We are allies, and have fought the good
John at 3:16Dear Jesus Christ,More Like This
I went to bed at 3:16 last night and started thinking about JohnJohn who pissed away every paycheck he ever made and only fucked virgins, John who beat up a woman's husband and spent a Christmas in jail, John who shot himself on the front porch of his mother's house. I don't think anyone shed a tear except her. I heard she shed many tears as she cleaned up the mess.
I thought about when I first met him. It was at church. He and I were both eight. He sat next to me and we stared at that stained glass image of you in your white robe with your outstretched, loving arms, and he leaned into me and asked, "Do you believe in Jesus?"
"Of course," I said. "Don't you?"
He didn't answer. But it was Communion that day and he ate your body and drank your blood just like everyone else, and I thought he had to believe in you because you were inside of him.
I asked him once, Jesus Christ, I asked him if he believed in you and he said, "I want to. But everyone says I have
True love, at first sightMore Like This
You were the one
Right from the start
There isn't anyone
That could keep you from my heart
You make my tummy twist inside
I will walk down the entire path of destruction with you
And I'll enjoy the ride
Just because I walked it with you
I want to stay with you, right here
Every single year
And to get some good night's rest
I'll fall asleep on your chest
You can do no wrong
Because I love everything about you
And together we belong
This love is so true
birdie suicideMore Like This
Flies as high as it can until it passes out. See if it can wake up before it hits the ground.
It's kind of sad,--
that things that fly,
usually die on the
146 poundsmy mother tells me that i should be ashamedMore Like This
for dipping my baby carrots in salad dressing,
that my food doesn't need the salt i sprinkle on it.
my afternoon tea doesn't need any sugar, skip
the lemonade and drink the water instead.
do you really need that?
her sharp tone echoes like military orders in the face of combat.
she tells me that at my age, her jean size was half of mine
and i resist the urge to tell her that maybe that means she
had half the character i do.
shopping with her, she butts heads with a body-image complex,
telling me to quit fooling myself and pick the next size up.
i shock her time and time again when i cram my corners into
every article of clothing i selected on my own.
how will you ever get married?
& i wish i could tell her how boys have seen me naked
in the emotional sense of the word, how they have found
truth and honor ready to burst from my so-called "fat rolls."
she will never know that i am a garden with an unlocked gate
and that each o