:: .:d i c e d:. ::

I'd like to write a poem or prose so nice
The ones that ooze with good advice
The types full of wisdom and truth
The ones that can calm and soothe

Or maybe a verse full of wit
That'll make readers go "That's neat!"
But all I can come up with is this lousy thing
About the things I keep wishing

I should come to terms with it
I really can't write for shit
DAMMIT!

Free Palestine!

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v Friday, July 30, 2004 v

I've held my heart in this glass vial deep within my core. I'm to scared to use it. The intensity of it all, the risk of spillig one drop.

No one comes close. I don't want them to. But I want to use it before it expires, dries me up into a bitter, emotionless wreck whose only regret was at least to have not served it to someone else, even if I couldn't bring myself to pour it out, to refill my own self.

Or maybe deep down, I don't want to give my heart to someone else because I want it for myself. At least, I know how much hurt I'd have to endure, without having the risk of giving to someone, not knowing how much  you'll get back or if it'll end up worse, with nothing left in me but dry trails of discoloured emotions.

I'm selfish enough to keep my wants & needs without loving myself. neither hating.
God knows what I've been melodramatically trying to weave out, wanting to bring out a gigantic, colourful rug from a few strands of dull wool.
My metaphors are so cheesy you could use it as a pizza topping.
God save me.

~wYLdeFiLLy~ 11:52 pm [+]