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floating through the flames
Folder:
2006 burning to the point of incineration
supercharged sensitivity to the light
no matter what faces they wear to cascasde the facts
the burns are the only truth that are left
at night whwn all the ice has melted away
like a angel with demon wings
where you are thrown to the window where there is nothing but desolation
no matter what happens there is nothing
but fuzziness and blur all around
and you are just floating in the middle of nothingness
and are chained by you bones to the clouds
and it makes it easier to see clearly enough to reglue to shattered frosted pieces
i used to think my gift was to mend a world beyond repair
but i can't even begin to mend the things that aren't meant to ever be put back together
in the abyss between self destruction and healing
its my most angelic artwork
when you stop thinking then you stop growing and thats when theirs an unstoppable blockage
like a blood clot that takes human form over your entire body
a more productive danger than the danger in death of ones soul
the latter is lifeless and void of existence or recordkeeping
still a part of the world of the living
couldnt settle for less than what is meant to be
and one by one people keep falling down
to just be replaced by another
as time limits allow
at certain times
its all timed perfectly without being perfect for a certain reason
come and go and come again and the more pain the better
stab me harder til i can no longer understand what baby one more time
have they run away or perhaps you just cant see them because your not looking close enough
or deep enough
there are some things that are always there
but as time goes by can't make ourselves believe they still have a physical form
they begin to dissolve until little more is left than dustless residue
believing is knowing how to take the lie out of believing
and if you hold the glass sideways there is no half empty or full
only spinning endlessly until the pointed edge of the cold weapon stops at your place in line
