What I write may never become poetry or prose but possibly prosetry, a mix of the both. A story separated into lines and stanzas that may never complete themselves. In everything I write and every picture I make, I hope to be honest and true and also to explore myself and express myself. I don't blog every single day but you can ask questions if you want ^_^

 

takingstockofwhatmattersmost:

i don’t have an answer for the fear
for the things that go bump in the night
i don’t have the answers of life
the words to calm your heart
and ease your terrified soul
just know…

i will be there until the very end

Abandoned Blog

It’s been a while since actually coming to or posting here. There isn’t really much to say these days. Anyhow, I’m active on WordPress:

Insanium Emotions
http://insaniumemotions.wordpress.com/

The Disturbed Writings
http://thedisturbeds.wordpress.com/

Contemplations of a Troubled Mind
http://contromind.wordpress.com/

Death is a country of which nothing is known; no one has returned to describe it.

Edouard Levé, Suicide (translated by Jan Steyn)

Je ne sais pas pourquoi ces pensées me hantent

Ils contrôlent mon esprit et me rendre fou

Je ne sais pas si je regrette certaines choses

Peut-être que j’aurais dû dire non et ne lui permettait

Je souhaite que je n’ai jamais commencé ce que je n’étais pas sûr de la façon d’arrêter

Je tiens à exprimer mon opinion clairement

Mais je ne sais pas ce qu’il ferait

Si cela peut faire la même chose

Ils disent que, pour paraphraser, mais je ne peux m’empêcher expliquant.

Mais ils disent que je suis difficile à comprendre.

Music occupies my ears once again

Yet the sound does not penetrate the thoughts

The screaming of inner voices prevail

They make me Insecure and bring me fear

The pain, anger and envy of not me

The voices inside me are not my own

The constant hammering into my head

Words I am forced to believe, repeated

Everything about me that I could love

Is wrong, misshapen. Or is it their minds?

trace us back trace us back: CLXXVIII

traceusback-:

i want to bury myself in the spaces between your fingers and sleep for an eternity
you say we’re safe as houses in here

(where the rain can’t get us)
(where there are no monsters in the closets)

but babe i’m just not so sure
because i never told you about all the secrets that i’ve hidden…

Only One

When I’m with you, there’s no other star in the sky

No other wind blowing by

No other vision to see

No other person you could be

I don’t see how anyone could ever steal me

hey try but I don’t see anything they say

I don’t want to look away

From you, my star

They got nothing to offer

That you haven’t outdone

Because you’re the only one

My prized masterpiece seemed to be nothing in your hands, I was overwhelmed by your steady gaze and slight nervousness. As I examined your features none of the words you say entered my full recognition, the sole feeling of finally being so close to someone who loved me back had covered my ears. I felt confused and no longer free. So used to being a single, solitary, lonely figure and standing on my own to resist and refuse any helping hand or compliment and label them false comfort. Always seeing compliments as a showering of bait to try sweeping me off my feet but this time I was led by the hand. Before pain translated to physical feelings and scarred me, I was able to completely feel love and good things more vividly. My heart gets warmer every day I’m with you and I am less cold and wicked than the days before.

I believe, though, my heart only speaks, bellows and sings melodies when in pain and renders silence to me when happiness takes its abode. Pages and memories of pain that could return to eat me up, spit me out and turn me vengeful if I dare revisit and lines and vague dreams of love and happiness like a crisp, early winter morning filled with the gentle sunlight on the white landscape and shining through the heart. Pain always brought me this familiar feeling I grew accustomed to and befriended, something one should never do. It wrapped its dangerously jagged arms around me and whispered lies into my ears and makes me remember every sound, smell, touch, sight, feeling, breaking, screaming and horror I had ever encountered. I could touch it and feel it while love seemed so distant. Befriending one loses the other but perfect insanity is making a truce to dance between the two. Good and evil never mix so.

So much for pain, yet all the words I can find too say to your face are generic responses that make me feel so ashamed that I have to hide behind a screen to say sweet words and offer only silence when you are there to hold my hand. My mind tells me still that I can’t trust you or let you in because you might hurt me and break me again like the others did. My mind reminds me that just about everything I touch breaks. My mind is conscious of me saying “I” so many times and makes me feel so selfish and self centered. Even in this silence, you still look into my eyes gently and we speak a language beyond words. My prized masterpiece is just a piece of me and a piece of my pain.

i love this..

moderateclimates:

I don’t know how I am lonely when just outside my room there are two sprawling trees with their leaves that brush against my windows, when there’s a dog barking loudly at eleven at night in the neighbourhood, when my parents are sleeping off their drink just down the hall….

takingstockofwhatmattersmost:

flaws are draped from my bed posts 
and hanging from the fan
they turn the lamplight from cream to muted crimson
and strewn from foyer to bedroom door
flaws fall onto hardwood stairs without a sound
flaws are all around…they’re always around

me
 

Voulez-vous savoir mon coeur?

Voulez-vous savoir quand je meurs?

Mon coeur tu savais.

Vous saurez quand je suis mort.

Pourquoi la mort?

Je ne peut pas toujours vivre dans votre cœur

Je vais vivre, mais dans ma misère et joyeuse propre.