Sacrificed Words, Meant for God.

I like the change it creates, talking.

my wrists feel like they need to be cut off, my bracelet is too binding. my vocabulary has never been so far from biblical that i need to tone it down a bit, even though all my friends say that when i speak it comes out too... forced...but what they don't know is that even though my soul isn't shy, my words, are, and so i have to push them out of my lungs, even when they grasp my teeth because they don't want to leave me, i still have to cut there wrists off. so yes even though i speak with force, i mean it. and even though i am too shy to listen to god because he is intimidating, the words i sacrificed for you are the only ones who became suicidal and decided that they had one purpose, and that was to talk to you. but then the words in my lungs got jealous and they decided they wanted to be heard also. and they sprang out .so i said to much, and i hurt myself having to shut my mouth, not letting any word slip out but one. guarded from the pits of my lungs, sought out for days and finally been found, and escorted to the lips that were supposedly sealed shut for days. i finally told you that i cared.

when seagulls lead me home

i always love to hear a seagull cry. because then I now that im not the only one who cries even when i am soaring through the skies in the beautiful sunset clouds that glow the end of the rainbow and i realize every once in a while that im also not the only human with emotions and feelings. and i lose my selfishness, and i sit in the corner and think to myself. how can i be so forgotten? and i cry, because the tears that run down my face are the only ones who are there when i am sad enough to want comfort. and tomorrow when I am asleep in my dreams, maybe I can find something that can lead me back home.
but last night I had a nightmare. my love fell for someone else. not knowing of my existence. kind of cheesy but I still believe in love at first sight. and its been a year since I first saw you. so give in and find me. cause I'm still forgiving the ones who left me behind in the hallways. but I should be thankful because that was the first time we met eyes.

One of the last deaths.

They all learn when the fire touches them. Fire is a teacher.

They all learn when water try's to pull them down. Water is a coach.

But what do I learn when death comes to visit.

Death is the test

Wether I cook with fire and swim the laps, that's a choice, but in the end, my test will come. And it is questionable that I will pass.

paris and the blackout

I feel like something has been, put down. like I'm in a world where my emotions are ignored, and my glass has become... fractured.

Paris is in a blackout.

i feel like im holding a candle where the wick has fallen out.
this feeling that i cant put the whick back in is weird and the wax.. has finally hardened.
the smell from the candle has forgotten the space around it, its forgotten me.

i can only light incense now. but incense doesn't give me light, or heat.

i changed my mind last night. instead of incense at my funeral. give me candles.

because then when i am lying into the red velvet. i can feel more alive.

because then when i am lying into the red velvet. im closer to god.

because then when i am lying into the red velvet. i can feel the flame.

and when i do.

i will be dead.


so go on paris.

go live in a blackout.

ill bring more candles.
it'll be more romantic
 

The Incense At My Funeral

I'm wanting to know that you are part of the fire, yet should you know better than to go running off into the fields. so i stand in the distance hoping that we can stop ourselves. I know our love is a lying depression and pain feels cheated. i can only wonder why hope still fears pain. i wanted to know how to find a personal devastation but instead i now dazzle in the tasteful fire that encircles the incense at my funeral. i can love the making of our legend, and it pushes me in the wrong direction, towards the answer to the question that you have been asking me for decades. yet you don't know what you want anymore.
and it seems to me, that all love has ever wanted to know, is what she wants. and i haven't felt that in years. i know that when somebody loved me, everything was beautiful. but all i see now is the dead flowers by my grave.