"People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down
When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange..."
I want to believe you.
When you tell me you're there for me, and that everything's going to be fine.
You want to help, I see that. But as you sit in front of me mumbling platitudes, I only float further away from you. All day long I suppress, trivialise, vent, pretend, distract myself... but the darkness in the vault of my thoughts is all consuming. It grips me with cold hands and whispers my worst fears until it's easier to just sink in to this feeling of despair.
4 comments:
"vault of my thoughts" likey :)
Vaulting thoughts better than vaulting ambition. Damn that Macbeth.
To make this trivial world sublime,
take half a gram of phanerothyme.
Heh! I thought I was the only one. I coined 'Zen and the Art of High Maintainance' but that was viz. yezdis (da motorcycles).
Onto more relevant stuff, I kinda dig what you post from personal experience. Hang on, sis and here's one from way back:
"We live, we die
& death not ends it"
"Journey we more into the
Nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion'd flower"
Erratum: sorry, must remember to exhale before typing : )
I wanted to type "Zen and the Art of Perpetual Maintainance."
Typo-ed instead.
PS: Ever heard of the dyslexic, angostic, insomniac who stayed up all night wondering if there was a 'Rod'?
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