cut2892

Yet again I sit on the edge of this bed,
contemplating the meaning of life.
my head a torrent of chaos and dread,
I beg for a moment of slow in my strife.
I'm losing it all heart body and head,
losing the love of my life.
I feel like a blind man with needle and thread,
stitching the wounds from this knife...

I'm tired of sitting on the edge of my bed,
and feeling this torrent of chaos and dread,
I want to gain back my heart and my head,
so I can finally put down this needle and thread..

And finally get on with my life....


September 3. 2012
12:06 am

Fire burns behind Hazel eyes,
Knuckles whiten atop fists clenched.
Face hot with hatred,
Heart pounding within chests' envelope.
Thoughts, none except utter pain and sorrow,
Body rigid every movement tedious.
Breathing labored, and steady, yet still erratic.
Hearing nothing but downed white noise...
Fist connects to bone, the report a shattering crack,
Blood spattered from a broken nose, pain,pain, black searing pain...

Bass trembling, a heart beating freely,
Reverberating off of the walls of my open mind.
Drums, keeping blind tempo with every thump,
The Proverbial clock ticking away time.
Guitar the rhythmic hands,
Guiding the flow of sound through twist and turn.
Lyrics, like a melodic waterfall cascading,
Pouring over the masses of listeners below...

Music, the only form of expression,
For we who cannot express through conventional means.