Litkicks Message Board Archive

READ!!! My Silence Comes From Writing

Posted to Poetry




She gives parties to cover the silence.
We live for the sheer pleasure of living ...
Pride and stupidity.
We wanted everything.
We kissed on a beach.
Three-thirty.
Wonderful.
It is on this day of all days;
Her fate becomes clear.
Particularly odd.
We had no instructions.
There is nothing more exihilerating than falling over something that doesn't seem to matter.
Hiding in dark back room consenting tears and wallowing sorrow.
It was all affectionally clear.
Everything was intensely mad and wrong. It never worked.
Everyone lay in confidence and misguided joy.
There was a reason the waiting ladies could not concieve hungry children.
We gave the clouds sweet suggestions.
The business was frightening.
While we sleep... we return to the place from which we came.
Small, but peaceful.
Nothing makes us smile anymore
My life inside was crazy.
There is no reason to determine her sadness.
You were there... we were all there.
And then in walks some sort of fate without a name to contracede a freedom of perception.
fortunate to breathe, fortunate to live... fortunate to die.
Will we ever fix the apologetic mistakes?
Say goodbye to destiny and fate... they have no meaning nor place here,
A simple misunderstanding or empty falsification.
It never made any sense.
We begged the stars and asked funny questions that we knew had no real answers.
All we knew about was death and intercedence.
Suicide and pleasures.
I rode the wave of seeing eyes and soft, foreign music.
And we dance in humble caves where books toppled from pockets in the ceiling.
It was all so magical... and so clear.
Did she resent that all this would happen without her...
That her life would come partially,
And though DEATH comes absolutely, it is barely a possibility.
Shall we let laughter drown our heroin,
Or shall we just...
Softly change our minds.
Insufferably envious of the curious cat who is never afraid to ask.
I didn't give you leave to walk away or escape insanity...
The little girl must go mad forever.
Looks that tell the story of your trivial life.
False comfort and years ago tomorrow.
There used to be such a sense of possibility.
this is where it starts...
The moment, right then, where no light penetrates, and no darkness leaves...
The moment where silence has no reason and we are all hngry for it.
Indelibly, the unexpected pleasure clings to us.
There is no obligation to imprisonment.
A ready source of absorbtion and remedy... where we like theives steal the lives we have no wish to live.
How did it all happen? To what purpose do we suffer invariably dying in some pond of maddening peace.
I wrestle alone in the dark with my extention.
Thereby I define my humanity.
I wish for sanity's sake that I could be happy in this quietness...
But if my spirit breaks in trying, then undoubtedably, I shall hide in sorrow.
Never to see again, and never to throw away my eyes.
You cannot find peace by avoiding life...
Life comes only from living, and dying is
everyone's result.