7th May 2008 - poem.
"some times guilt lays on you like a sword, cause i've been hit, harder than some might say, would you listen if i... think i played it a thousand times or more,
thats cut and the cut you wish you'd never saw,
oh i've been beaten, and when i'm beaten i fight back,
then i ly in a corner with guilt upon my back.
and i sit here waiting and i'm led astray, somtimes you can say stuff that don't mean shit,just because your haunting and you put a spell on it.
sometimes i scream, rolling in pain on the floor.
i always seem to dream of you,
always seem to remember you,
always seem to think of you, even though i don't have to.
but who you is you'll never know, unless you look deep and i guess it'll show,
like a song that you wanted me to write, i just cant put any of these words up
right.
i guess i'm kinda lost now, still holding on my cross and how.
life don't give me no pleasure at all,
suppose you gotta thank that, for all the hurt i caused.
nothing fit into place, the demons seemed to grown, got a bigger space,
to live and breathe fire on me, as i struggle through the burnt debris.
so i cant change any word, i cant change any hurt,
i cant change anything thing i done, to her to her or her.
i can only change the present, which leaves me kinda cut..
and leaves me feeling bad and leaves me in this rut.
but i'm still the same old guy, just i ignore me to close off any pain,
cause when i close my eyes at night, i'm in the room again.
the beating starts again and the words they strangle in,
and the tears they seem ignore, and my body seems so floored.
and food just makes me sick and life just makes me quit.
and my heart is heavy, sad, just leaves me feeling bad.
i can still feel every breath at night, the way bodies seem to hold on tight,
and the bruises still remain, it's just they're tatooed inside my brain.
and the loss is always there and the people still do stare,
and my mind is somewhere else, it's in jailed in the old house.
and the blood still drips from nose, and the knife rolls over my toes,
and the aliens still exist and the ghosts don't ever lift.
and the stories i still write, about the goings on that night,
how i was broken and left unfixed, upon the moons glowing mist.
and i still sing my songs, like the ones that blocked out the noise,
from the shouting from downstairs, that left me disrepaired.
and the wounds they still break deep, im still searching for the peace,
that i promised myself so much, before i was kicked right into touch.
so im sitting here repeating, and my heart i dont hear beating,
because all the love i had has run dry and my spirits seemed to died.
so what is it im trying to say, cause if i love something i push it away,
and if it pushes back i stand still and i'll pop another pill.
cause its hard for me to speak, so now i'll try, and i'll try to reach,
cause i'm sorry that im a leach and the blood has made me weak."
