If only I could make it go away
If only I could make you stay
If only I could turn back time
If only I could make you mine
If only I could just believe
If only it was just you and me
If only I could tell her why
If only I could see her eyes
If only I could dry her tears
If only I could destroy her fears
If only I could tell her how I truly feel
If only she'd notice this is real
If only I didnt feel this wretched sting
If only I could tell her all these things
Confessions pt.1She sat directly across from me at the table in the small restraunt. She set her purse, coupled with her personal belongings next to her in that tiny booth, and withdrew a tiny pocket-sized mirror from inside it, to look at her own reflection. She closed her mirror, returned it to her purse, and stared directly into my eyes.
"So. Tell me what it was like. I want to know everything about it. Every single little detail."
She told me, as I gazed back at her, noticing tiny drops of rain begining to hit the window to my immediate left. I turned my head to face the window, seeing the rain clouds over-head. I brushed some of the shaggy blonde hair out of my eyes, and heaved a heavy sigh. She was simply asking me to recall what could arguably be the best, and worst time of my life. I turned my head back to her, and looked back to her green eyes with my own. She rested her chin on the fist of her left hand. I noticed the tiny freckles she had on her nose, and under her eyes. Her radiant red hai
Ramifications"Please... Dont... Please dont go."
My words stammered through my trembling lips. I sat, almost lifeless, my body shaking against the concrete floor. I couldnt think of any one thing I could have ever possibly wanted more in my life, than to have her hand in my own right now. I reached out, extended my arm as far as I could reach, but felt nothing. The entire left side of my body began to grow numb from the loss of blood. My vision was unclear, as were my thoughts.
My legs curled up to my chest, making my subconcious realize that I was colder than I truly suspected. My body ached. It shivered ever more violently now. I cursed God. I cursed her. I cursed anyone and everyone who ever gave me some feeble sense of hope. I shuddered again, as more tears spilled out of my eyes. I closed them immediately to view a cascade of memory wash upon my mind's eye.
This is Hell...
I thought to myself, as I could see her face so vividly, so clearly as though she were standing right in front of me
ConversationsWe were just three young men.
Sitting on the front porch of his home, smoking cigarettes, and speaking philosohpically to one-another.
Watching the sun drift slowly into twilight, I couldnt help but notice how mystic he seemed in all of his vast knowledge.
Or at least, the way he spoke with such conviction, as though he knew all of what he said to be true.
We spoke of life. We spoke of politics, religion, sex, and war.
And yet through each subject, he had some vast knowledge one does not obtain through a life of schooling.
We spoke of the most generic outlook of God and the Devil. He, being an atheist, gave us his outlook on it. John, being a believer in the Judeo-Christian Dogma, was right on par with my own ideas. We spoke of humanity leading itself to it's own demise. We spoke of Heaven and Hell. We spoke of many things that night. One thing I can never forget is how he would present his ideas to us.
"Evil is an abstract..." He said taking a long drag on his cigarette, and blowing t
Isolated from a forgotten feeling
Remembering her voice through echoes in my head
Dreamscapes wash unto the shores of my memory
My will collides with the persistence of loss
I am left
No longer adrift
No longer at peace
I am leaving hope
Memories cascade unto my consciousness
Everything back where it belongs
I will choose to keep myself
I can make a difference
By not letting go
By never forgetting
I can make a difference
By holding on
From Katie...i feel like an idiot...
for holding back...
but there will always be fear...
can i live up to it?
And when I finally do...
will I have proven my worth?...
or that I am really closer to the bottom...
Because one look from him stops my heart... makes me suffocate...
he's deadly to the senses...
but can i throw away a lifetime's worth of rules and limitations...
just for one night...
And after that...
will I still be of any worth...
a passing thought?
another nameless girl?
Unholy OblivionAnguished screams
Alotted time against an angry tyrant
Burning with the souls of damnation
Eternity of servitude
Demolished faith equivocal to broken glass
Acts of Vengeance
Witnessing rape of the pure
Devouring the souls of the innocent
An Unholy Oblivion
Bloodlust in my subconcious"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things to those who dream only by night." ~Edgar Allen Poe.
My eyes opened instantly, as though waking from a dream.
I awoke to behold, although my eyes were vacant, and groggy from an almost sleep-like state, a room in which my body had never been.
Upon realizing this I took in my first breath, inhaling deeply, what could unquestionably be none other than a Jasmine scent.
I had been in my dreary slumber, lying all but nude in a bed which I had never been in before, nor had any modicum of recollection of.
I arose out of the bed which I had been perplexed; wondering how I had gotten there.
I could hear the faint sound of water running throughout the chamber I had been.
Instinctively, I approached, warily to the chamber door.
Upon opening the chamber door, the sight of a dilapidated vestibule greeted me.
The sound of running water came from one end of the antechamber.
Turning my head watchfully, I began to inspect both ends of the
In dreams- FinalUtter silence. He closes his eyes for a moment, to take in the feel of the surrounding area. He has no idea what is in store for him now. After two surprising visits from two people he loves dearly, he has no clue what to expect. He raises his arms slowly, as he clenches his fists. He can feel the environment around him. He can now feel everything in this Eden; this Savage Garden that has become an apparent breeding ground for his most intimate thoughts. He can feel the trees blowing in the breeze, or the leaves dancing to the ground, or even the water flowing in the creek behind him in the beyond. He takes in a deep breath, holds it for a short while, and then lets it out. He can smell the fresh grass, the scent of bark, and even pine. He lowers his arms, and head, simultaneously opening his eyes, to see the grove before him illuminated, as though Monet painted this scene himself. He smiles a bit, sniffing a bit, to take in the scent of the next person who stands behind him. Before he