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I see what I really am..
a thief, a whore, a liar
Created on 2003-03-10 15:44:48 (#941521), last updated 2005-04-23
243 comments received, 393 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
269 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Jac |
|---|
Bio"Sweet Nothing of Everything"
A razor lay at the bottom of the ocean.
Nothing left to write about but broke dreams and fires long extiguised.
Everywere you turn there are those who wonder..
wonder if you have fallen to far to be saved...
wonder if everything you say is a lie...
But I do not wonder.
I know.
I know what I've become and what I am.
I know that the bitterness that is barred deep escapes me
and rolls off my tounge onto a long drenched floor of lies and decite.
I know my fire escapes my cracked lips and that it burns every so offten.
I bit them [my bleeding veshles of speech] somtimes.
More then often I let it out, though.
To sear those who have displease me and hurt me.
Cracked with the wip of reality the scars are to think to go away.
I fear the power of my own hand,
the willing of my own soul.
A few feet away sits an escape I dare not take.
Every glance, every motion brings me closer to it.
I am scared I won't stop.
Afraid I'll scream and no one will be home to save me.
I'll lye on the floor, dying...
and that will be all.
My chest aches and fear begins to choke me.
Every step I take brings me closer... closer to that.
That thing that harbors all fear.
It hasn't been barried deep enough yet.
The pointy end still peers out through the thick veluar of my heart.
They tell you to say no to drugs, drinking, and sex.
They never tell you to say no to yourself.
The enemy isn't intoxication,
its the voice in the deep of night that awaken you in the night.
Its that addiction to [...] that makes you weaker and stronger.
Drugs were never the problem.
I was never the problem.
It... it was the problem.
Housed deepwith the firey-barren lands of my soul.
Chained down in my mind.
Stuck to my wrists.
The sticky sensation of sweat beads up on my hands.
And my cheeks flush like a virgins.
I grow nervous and don't trust myself.
But pride has always been what stops me.
Pride of somthing far off.
I am scared of what I will do.
Scared of what I won't do.
I am not stronger then I was.
I am merely weaker and less myself.
I am no longer cloaked by the darkest of nights,
but instead chained down, naked, in the brillant sun.
To show all you what its like to feel like pain.
You can look at my pain in the dry, crusted tears that formed around my eyes.
Know of what its like to be despret by the bloody cassing around my arms.
Do I really scare you?
Because you can't get off scotch free.
Your consious will slowly eat away at what innocents you still retained.
Till you to...
go just as insane as I did.
A razor lay at the bottom of the ocean.
Nothing left to write about but broke dreams and fires long extiguised.
Everywere you turn there are those who wonder..
wonder if you have fallen to far to be saved...
wonder if everything you say is a lie...
But I do not wonder.
I know.
I know what I've become and what I am.
I know that the bitterness that is barred deep escapes me
and rolls off my tounge onto a long drenched floor of lies and decite.
I know my fire escapes my cracked lips and that it burns every so offten.
I bit them [my bleeding veshles of speech] somtimes.
More then often I let it out, though.
To sear those who have displease me and hurt me.
Cracked with the wip of reality the scars are to think to go away.
I fear the power of my own hand,
the willing of my own soul.
A few feet away sits an escape I dare not take.
Every glance, every motion brings me closer to it.
I am scared I won't stop.
Afraid I'll scream and no one will be home to save me.
I'll lye on the floor, dying...
and that will be all.
My chest aches and fear begins to choke me.
Every step I take brings me closer... closer to that.
That thing that harbors all fear.
It hasn't been barried deep enough yet.
The pointy end still peers out through the thick veluar of my heart.
They tell you to say no to drugs, drinking, and sex.
They never tell you to say no to yourself.
The enemy isn't intoxication,
its the voice in the deep of night that awaken you in the night.
Its that addiction to [...] that makes you weaker and stronger.
Drugs were never the problem.
I was never the problem.
It... it was the problem.
Housed deepwith the firey-barren lands of my soul.
Chained down in my mind.
Stuck to my wrists.
The sticky sensation of sweat beads up on my hands.
And my cheeks flush like a virgins.
I grow nervous and don't trust myself.
But pride has always been what stops me.
Pride of somthing far off.
I am scared of what I will do.
Scared of what I won't do.
I am not stronger then I was.
I am merely weaker and less myself.
I am no longer cloaked by the darkest of nights,
but instead chained down, naked, in the brillant sun.
To show all you what its like to feel like pain.
You can look at my pain in the dry, crusted tears that formed around my eyes.
Know of what its like to be despret by the bloody cassing around my arms.
Do I really scare you?
Because you can't get off scotch free.
Your consious will slowly eat away at what innocents you still retained.
Till you to...
go just as insane as I did.
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