I was sure that this world, this life, is all there is.
When I was standing on that cliff, looking out at the blue, never-ending line.
Then I looked up, into the black, never-ending screen and everything changed.
In my mind at least.
Acknowledging potential is always easier than achieving it.
Or finding it, discovering it so to speak.
I guess that was always the way with you, you're like that.
Always talking, never doing.
I looked into that blue, never-ending line and I couldn't see a thing.
I looked into that black, never-ending screen and I saw us both.
Infinite possibilities, minute eventualities.
You were always saying "I'm trying to go" rather than "I'm going to try."
We could have swung on the swing set of the asteroid belts.
Kicking our feet in stardust like children in a sandpit.
We had the world at our finger tips, universe in our hearts.
In my mind at least.
Because it was only me. You were never one to stargaze.
Always firmly on the ground.
"Concrete only" she said. "...How else can I be sure I won't fall through the ground?".
So now our worlds have collided again, and our suns are going nova.
I could have sworn we made amends, an accord to try again.
I swear you said that you were going to try.
But when you talk all I see are the meteors that come flying out your eyes.
On such a graceful night you both took the same ride you always did.
You looked alive as only you could, but sat holding death in your heart.
Split-seconds weren't long enough for me, how could I have ever helped?
I was never given any signs, you didn't ever show me.
Or maybe I just didn't see...
They'll always get to you with wicked words and such tales of torment.
But now so drastically you have decided that you're all done.
Through the window you lept, without so much as a parting word.
I guess your savior took you away, because mine couldn't keep you here.
Bloodlust apparantly tastes good to dry mouths.
I said "This will kill us, finish us all off in time."
You said "That suits me fine."
I said "This will kill us, finish us all off in time."
You said "That suits me fine."
Feel it change us, it's changing us.
Deliver us, carry us, from the mundane.
Bleed us, bleed us, in our wombs.
Take us, enslave us, while we're weak and poor.
Save us, save us, from our darkened rooms.
I tried so hard to save you and me both from living hell.
But after all this time I still can't forgive myself.
Standing in an old house, where dust chokes the lungs.
Looking around aimlessly at the damp and erosion.
Paint peeling off the walls like sunburnt skin, unveiling not new life...
...but rotted cores.
Gone are the days when we slide so haphazardly down those varnished hand rails.
It seems so long ago now.
So here I stay, in the place of my birth.
I've never opened myself to anyone at all.
By the time my skin peels back like this dry old paint, revealing my innermost sanctum.
Will there be anything for you to see?
Or will I, like these walls, be lost to the effects of time?
I wish I could say I had the chance, but you can see in my eyes that it's too far gone.
I already have a mind frought with decay, but you can take my soul.
Yes, you can take my soul. Trade it in for something nice, a watch maybe.
So you can time how long before the ageing kills me.
There was a time when we sensed first and saw later.
Are these times long but gone?
Whatever happened to the true form of life, where did it go wrong?
Art can't be terminal, can it? It can be saved I'm sure.
Not for you, us tired visionairies will save our passion for the lasting ones.
We've had it with all you temporaries.
Gender: Female Location: every which way but loose
This is beautiful... I like the 'shrug shoulders' attitude towards the end, as if the narrator just couldn't give a damn any more. I also like the moments of reminiscence and then bitterness closely intertwined, for me the poem conveyed a sense of sadness of loss near the beginning, then frustration and then, just acceptance. It's really moving AC
KMC Community Forums
Aug 6th, 2005 06:40 AM
Agreed... I felt the emotion, a rarity for me. Really good...
