Post by cloche on Nov 4, 2006 15:35:07 GMT -5
Just a little something, comments and suggestions please. Constructive critisism is welcomed. And flames are welcomed as long as a hose is okay with you.
~~
“Long Slow Slide”
Speeding, turning, falling through the rest stop, burning.
That doesn’t make any sense. It’s all over stressed chit chat revolving around neglected children and B rated movies.
Life isn’t atrociously horrible, just a little tiresome.
The monotonous plague that clouds my thoughts making me forever tired drip through the entrails of my mind making every second more and more...
Vexing.
“The worst fear I can imagine is for the mystery to be named”
How sad it all is, the burnt out flame of life.
The fall season suits me now, its misleading worldwide message of colorful uplifting death to once vibrant and thriving objects of nature.
It’s all too ironic.
“Inertia of loneliness...tears your flesh apart.”
It comes and goes, falls up and down.
When will it stop? This mediocre tune of life...
Stop, let me reconsider.
Speed up, catch me off guard.
No, it’s just redundant and repulsively obtuse.
“It’s a long slow slide down.”
Why oh why can’t that something happen?
It hints, it visits, it goes nearby, but not near enough to grasp.
Like buying an expensive sweater where as two days later goes on sale at an agitating low price.
“You laugh halfheartedly at the punch-line, not realizing they’ve made you the joke.”
Oh you poor souls, trying to grasp for air in 1 foot deep water. Go stand over there. I need not listen to this anymore.
~~
“Long Slow Slide”
Speeding, turning, falling through the rest stop, burning.
That doesn’t make any sense. It’s all over stressed chit chat revolving around neglected children and B rated movies.
Life isn’t atrociously horrible, just a little tiresome.
The monotonous plague that clouds my thoughts making me forever tired drip through the entrails of my mind making every second more and more...
Vexing.
“The worst fear I can imagine is for the mystery to be named”
How sad it all is, the burnt out flame of life.
The fall season suits me now, its misleading worldwide message of colorful uplifting death to once vibrant and thriving objects of nature.
It’s all too ironic.
“Inertia of loneliness...tears your flesh apart.”
It comes and goes, falls up and down.
When will it stop? This mediocre tune of life...
Stop, let me reconsider.
Speed up, catch me off guard.
No, it’s just redundant and repulsively obtuse.
“It’s a long slow slide down.”
Why oh why can’t that something happen?
It hints, it visits, it goes nearby, but not near enough to grasp.
Like buying an expensive sweater where as two days later goes on sale at an agitating low price.
“You laugh halfheartedly at the punch-line, not realizing they’ve made you the joke.”
Oh you poor souls, trying to grasp for air in 1 foot deep water. Go stand over there. I need not listen to this anymore.
