Monday, February 16, 2009 @ 10:06 PM Heartache, for my heart's sake..
I don't know what I'm missing, but I know what you're not.It's easy now, for me to realize, since emotion and numbness have separated all the connections as it does. This thing, I can view objectively, and it's just the scars of memories that burn the back of my eyelid, but no longer those tear glands, and much more seldom, those corners of, not my heart, but rather, my amygdala, or some part like that. My limbic system never seemed to function properly, but you managed to jump start it for a while. What is there; what is not. And those two halves that can not exist without the other are just, and I can only say to myself ,
"These are the things that happen." And there you go again! my drive that begins to dysfunction my entire left hemisphere, and you say,
"NOO!!! YOU ARE MORE! YOU ARE HERE! YOU ARE MEMORY AND EMOTION AND YOU ARE LEFT WITH ME! YOU ARE NOT SOME SEQUENCE THAT WAS OBSERVED AND OBSCURED!! YOU ARE MORE! I MAKE YOU MORE! YOU ARE MORE! YOU ARE EVERYTHING THAT I AM! MY EXISTENCE, MY HEARTBEAT, YOU ARE EVERYTHING!"
And then you settle, and you slumber, back into your death that you live in, and my "heart" grows cold, again, to all outside emotion. You are the the only spark that lights this fire. This is the day that I come to understand, and to accept, but not yet, can I say that I feel it. You bring to me life that I never had before. I would give it all up; the cost of mine was much to high for the cost of yours.
Monday, February 16, 2009 @ 10:06 PM Heartache, for my heart's sake..
I don't know what I'm missing, but I know what you're not.It's easy now, for me to realize, since emotion and numbness have separated all the connections as it does. This thing, I can view objectively, and it's just the scars of memories that burn the back of my eyelid, but no longer those tear glands, and much more seldom, those corners of, not my heart, but rather, my amygdala, or some part like that. My limbic system never seemed to function properly, but you managed to jump start it for a while. What is there; what is not. And those two halves that can not exist without the other are just, and I can only say to myself ,
"These are the things that happen." And there you go again! my drive that begins to dysfunction my entire left hemisphere, and you say,
"NOO!!! YOU ARE MORE! YOU ARE HERE! YOU ARE MEMORY AND EMOTION AND YOU ARE LEFT WITH ME! YOU ARE NOT SOME SEQUENCE THAT WAS OBSERVED AND OBSCURED!! YOU ARE MORE! I MAKE YOU MORE! YOU ARE MORE! YOU ARE EVERYTHING THAT I AM! MY EXISTENCE, MY HEARTBEAT, YOU ARE EVERYTHING!"
And then you settle, and you slumber, back into your death that you live in, and my "heart" grows cold, again, to all outside emotion. You are the the only spark that lights this fire. This is the day that I come to understand, and to accept, but not yet, can I say that I feel it. You bring to me life that I never had before. I would give it all up; the cost of mine was much to high for the cost of yours.
Although it's against my best judgment, I'm a dreamer.
I'm a hopeless idealist. I see good in even the most evil things.
I find faith and hope in humanity,
where everyone around me finds disgust and hatred and disunity.
I believe the world is what we make of it. I
believe in self-fulfilling prophecies.
I believe in people, because they don't even believe in themselves.
The world is amazing, if you want it to be.
I'm a young boy, but I'm far from being a teenager.
I made my mistakes and learned my lessons long before most people can even fathom.
I've learned to love my intelligence, and I prefer to remain inebriated in my own brilliance,
not by substance and people. I'm as open as the oceans, sometimes, just as deep.
Questions are hard for me to answer, and explanations are as rocky as the mountains in which I was raised.
Silence and nature go hand in hand. You've never met someone so quiet who can be so loud.
The public is my friend, and strangers are my favourite. My audience staring intently as I stage my act.
Only fools act, and I never said I wasn't one. I don't like unintelligent people,
but I front too much to take up with geniuses. I simply bask in their ambiance. I'm the outcast, the uncertain.
What do I know? I know I am the earth, you use me, and use me, and never appreciate,
you never take the time to love or thank. But I am the Earth, I'm used to it, so it's okay.
I am the Earth, someday I'll have enough.
