I read somewhere… how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong… but to feel strong.
I’m going to paraphrase Thoreau here… rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness… give me truth.
honey, sugar, sweetie, she’s always making friends
and she keeps us all locked outside her thick leather skin
she always starts with a smile, it’s small and butter yellow
but easier than a handshake, doesn’t like her hands touched
she tans alot, gets burnt alot smoking through the cartons
but then gets put out so much, she’s considered a bargain
she was born on the fourth of july with her hand on her heart
loves america, & being patronized, no one ever told her to guard her heart
she was an angel for halloween once, but never again
and for christmas ever year she’s haunted by demons
they always tell her they love her.
she used to believe in innocence until she lost it
and spent a long summer, riding the trains
she has cats and collectors plates to keep her sane
watching TV in her favorite chair…both of which are rented
she’s alone, and surrounds herself with loners
her life is a loan, lent out to anyone who will own her
waiting for the night to sweep her off her feet, while she mops the bathroom floor
hoping for a winning ticket or a man to treat her right
but they’re both a gamble and she’s been a loser all her life
and if she had a nickel for every time she’s been punched and kicked
she’d put it together with her camel cash, try to buy some happiness
they always tell her they love her, but then they take something from her.
she shows everyone her dreams, crumpled up like leaves from holding on too tight
scattered in her shoebox coffin on the cardboard walls covered in butterflies
she’s got love in her heart for her babies, and hope in her mind for tomorrow
and blood on her hands that only she sees, holding the last bit of time that’s borrowed
but you never know where that heart has been, and we’ll never know how hard it’s been
I wanna cut open my chest and let her in, but that won’t fix what needs to mend
and she stands there unlit cigarette in hand
filling up that empty hole with anything that’ll pour
insides hanging out like a flare, gun, warning.
there’s beauty in that pain, can you see it?
she’s crashing through life with seat belt hands
one accident away from a miracle
and there’s an honesty there, but I can’t take it all in
she hides the worst of it in the wrinkles
that’s the ache you get when there’s no where else to go.
and she’s got no where else to go, doesn’t want to go there.
I promise I’ll go with her.
Watching black swan… i dont get why people like this movie so much lol its stupid. well i mean i guess if your a sex crazed 13 year old or you real;y like ballet it has its perks, otherwise i dont get whats so good about it..
Eyes wide open in the darkness but i really cant see it, Its dim light getting closer but it seems indifferent, Can it not diside, or is it trying to hide the fact its there in the first place; Stones rollying and crunching beneath my feet, only is the noice prevalent untill i see, a man, a man wallowing in his diffeat, the world seems to get quiet, I am defend by a man solemn and defiant, He is cold, Colder then the stone i now walk on, I walk away dead set on my mission i payed no attention. Farther down the path to that light tower, My hard callest feet feel somthing as sweet as a flower its grass, For the first time in weeks not glass, As i walk on the grass that feels so real to me i see 3 dead girls crying next to a great dead tree, Id like to help them i realy would but busy i am i hope they understood