riseagainstrocks

so basically, last night was one of the worst in my life and I had to explain things somehow. Writing seemed most appropriate. Feedback is GREATLY encouraged/desired.

You Cannot Change The Stars

My bottle was draining and I was fighting an uphill battle against my lesser nature

(An) empty glow
(From the) TV show
(That) no one knows (is on)
has stained the room like the kind of makeup (she used to wear during intimacy)

It’s funny how escaping tragedy is like breathing in Sarin. You’ll always lose the race. No finish line. No antidote

They told me I was going through rehabilitation

Flashback 9 months ago:

I HELD YOU CLOSE AND BREATHED THROUGH YOU

Filtering my inhalation, rose sweet, wine drunk, unthinking and uninhibited

How could I, who is an emotional torrent, have someone other than a carpenter (the bastards) build these walls? Who buy I to inject your strychnine veins with the ash.

Flashback 6 months ago

I haven’t eaten in 3 days.
I am pale and am now the true face of atrophy
Dishelved. Living in a starkly monochromatic room. Well, living is a misnomer.
There is a desk, a chair, and a cadaver

My vision, if it works at all, is frequently blurred. I look at your photograph and see distortion and red.

The infant
The child
The youth
The man

Progression! Is Linear! And I! Want Off!
Progression! Is Linear! And I! Want Off!

Flashback 3 months ago

I’ve been in a right state of mind for too many memories

I open the door to welcome the visitor: “Good evening Mr. I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“I am Intoxication, I am Repression, I am Perdition, I am the twisted web of thought that inhabits your mind and clouds your judgment.”
“I’d have a drink with you, but I’m afraid the doctors told me I’d die”
“But you already have. I can smell your burning flesh, hear your screaming and pleading, and taste the dissonance of your latent ecstasy and torment.”

Ever the good host I shot him in the head, minimizing the pain and maximizing the blood. I’ve always liked a good show.

THIS IS NO DREAM
THIS IS EXISTENCE
THIS IS NOT FAIR
and you are alone

Flashback 1 week ago

With the phonograph playing old love songs, I can’t help but feel heartache and headsick.

I’m hoping this is a temporary arrangement. The liquor store is too far away and I can’t walk straight. It’s late and all I feel like doing is dying. Dying. It’s late and all I feel doing is dying.

The Gideon Bible in the drawer is tattered and what little comfort it offers can be found in tearing out the pages and consuming the verses.

I’m looking at the clock. It’s late and all I feel like doing is dying.

2:10 AM 11/5/06

I’m almost empty and the weight in my pocket is still too heavy. I hear the rumble on the tracks approaching. With a sigh of weariness coupled with the first true pang of joy I’ve felt in God knows how long I stumble out of bed and grab my jacket. I stop and realize that I won’t need it where I’m going. The tracks aren’t too far away and I’ve still got 3 minutes or so. One last shot, one last piss, one last whisper, one last look, one last tear.

The tracks are cold. They would hurt my back if I still had any feeling in my body. I can see the lights on me and I feel…alive.

Now I lay me down to sleep…

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One note timeless, came out of nowhere...

sleepy jack

I wrote something sort of similar to this recently, more in the whole diary-esque style. I'll critique it more later, theres a few parts I don't like but it seems great at first read.

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Kyren Tsunami

wow O.o so.. long... not that it's boring... if you write that much you'll soon be a guy with few words if you get my drift... but it's a good lyric

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all the songs I've Wrotes cames from experiences from the past, present and future.