It was and always is a myth that we understood each other.
Dreaming out loud is the sort of supid trap a romantic gets themselves into.
Words spoken fly past each other.
Fueling crumbled up bitter disapointment.
FEELINGS
Are upper case bullshit.
Words spoken fly past each other.
Fueling crumbled up bitter disapointment.
FEELINGS
Are upper case bullshit.
They are detached limbs, that move themselves around an unfeeling and blanked core of myself.
Crying is a by-product of action, it happens with a spontaneity,
I could forget it's happening during sobs as they do not feel real.
Words cancelling themselves out before they've even been written
Crossed out lines in my head
My favourite words for now are the empty ones.
Hollow
Vacant
Bereft
Blank piece of paper
Words cancelling themselves out before they've even been written
Crossed out lines in my head
My favourite words for now are the empty ones.
Hollow
Vacant
Bereft
Blank piece of paper
( although a blank piece of paper holds a promise I do not currently feel).
I think also that the indented negated words ( the ones that try and describe a voided space) implicitly carry the antithesis of what they describe. I mean to say, that I would not so worry about the emptiness if I was not so concerned with what it could be filled with.
I think I always felt that misery was a journey, but is this just more of my own looped foolishness? Others cover it up and in so doing in a sense repair it. To focus on something is to make it bigger of course.
And the whole thing would be so simple if it wasn't a contraption of my own making
I think also that the indented negated words ( the ones that try and describe a voided space) implicitly carry the antithesis of what they describe. I mean to say, that I would not so worry about the emptiness if I was not so concerned with what it could be filled with.
I think I always felt that misery was a journey, but is this just more of my own looped foolishness? Others cover it up and in so doing in a sense repair it. To focus on something is to make it bigger of course.
And the whole thing would be so simple if it wasn't a contraption of my own making
(a poem is a contraption)
Something you create but can't control, perhaps.
- AL, June 2011.