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stachitus
allys/ponch/jamal/harold/ spends countless hours hidden in the cave of her room blogging, doing homework, sleeping and sacrificing virgins. Not really. that last one was a joke. |
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Wednesday, August 13, 2008,10:36 PM
Silly, stupid girl.
 Running through daisies always make me feel silly. Too girly. Or sad. And I'm so confused right now. So I think that once something happens that I'm so hoping for, I'll recoil back into my hole and cry. Because that's what I always do. So how can I look at you and think about someone else? How can I smile and cry on the inside? When I wish I could cry, why are my eyes dry and burning while I rub at them earnestly, waiting for tears to flow? So silly, silly girl, I hate you. When you should be doing something you always revert and walk the other way. Just for the sake of uniformity, you glance at the person beside you. Because that's the safest. Too much guilt for one day. Too many tears. But they never come out. They sit and stew, and curdle. They build and build, but the more they build, the harder it is to force them out. Squeezing your eyes shut, squinting and clenching fists. Gasping and sobbing. Just because you know you should. Things are never the same after you stumble, because these eyes always follow you. And you smile whenever he smiles, laugh when he laughs and you're sure he can hear the shaking in your stomach when you talk to him. "Hold it together Allyson." "Don't cry don't cry." His eyes burn into you and you can't help but smile when you see the happiness on his face. Because he's happy to see you everyday, and he talks to you and he smiles at you. But not anymore, obviously. Now his eyes burn into you and your lips quiver, and you feel your tears finally come. Collapsing. You feel your knees bend. You know it will come. What you've been waiting for. "GO AWAY!" You want to scream the words. You want to run away and cry. Disappointment. Again. It's all your fault Ally. Everything. EVERYTHING!!!!! Screams. Echoing in your mind, trying to find a hole. IT"S ALL YOUR FAULT! Cry. Hold the pillow. Grasp the edges. Cradle them. Squeeze them, hold them to your heart. Sing to them softly. Serenade. Whisper a solacing remedy. Close the wounds. Burn the edges closed with your frigid fingertips. And cry. You silly, stupid girl.
12:04 PM
Wilting Roses
 They fall, Wilting. Vertiginous patterns trace invisible lines across your subconcious. Smiling sadly, reaching for white. Red petals fall, they are crushed by ignorant feet. You reach down to pick up the tainted dreams. So many tears fall, do they mingle with the red? Washing away the roses? Symphonies of serenades sing you to sleep. Brushing your chocolate hair, they touch you with burning fingertips. You can no longer breath. Shallow gasps make you stiff and pained. You can only concentrate on regulating those whimpers. Hold yourself together. Sing. In weak, wilted breaths. Should I stay? Will you finally sleep when all the petals are washed away? Sing when you are sleeping. Dream of the sky, soft and drifting. I will leave when you are sighing. So I can pick up the wilted roses and carry them to a safer place. Inside this box they'll be safe. So I can cradle them against my chest, so they can sleep in gasping breaths. Barely alive, but also vibrant. Seal them tight so they won't escape. They won't fall away. They won't wash away, or fly away. Not anymore.
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10 previous posts
oh noes! ★
birthday parties and robot trees. ★
Baklava...wait...no. ★
sushiii! ★
Bleh, photography. ★
Caffeine Deprivation Syndrome ★
MARCHing On... ★
cliche ★
Anticipation ★
Lyrical Lies? ★
Past posts by month
August 2008 ★
November 2008 ★
December 2008 ★
January 2009 ★
February 2009 ★
March 2009 ★
April 2009 ★
June 2009 ★
August 2009 ★
March 2010 ★
April 2010 ★
November 2010 ★
Credits
Coded by wickedicy
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