Dead To Me

Will you give me that bouquet of roses?
Will you hand me explanations along with the salt?
Either way you are dead to me.
Do or say, you are dead to me.

Would you mind stroking my shoulders for once?
Could you come so close I could feel your warmth?
Either way you are dead to me.
Do or say, you are dead to me.

You never were there when I needed you,
You never held me when I was down,
You never left when I asked you to,
While I was lost you were always found

Don't you get it?
Well, you never understood.
You really don't get it?
Well, you never were good.

So will you give me that bouquet of roses?
Will you hand me explanations along with the salt?
And then in miraculous ways the past would change?

Sorry to disappoint you,
but you're just not up to date.
Either way you are dead to me.
Do or say, you are dead to me.

Nothing In Your Voice

There's nothing in your voice no more
Nothing in your eyes
We don't touch
We don't speak
It's not
The way it used to be
Nothing's going on no more
Nothing in those eyes
Not even a little
Or not as much
As before
Not even a single thing
We could turn away from
And ignore
There's nothing to escape no more
Nothing to look past
There's nothing in your voice no more
Do you want to leave it at that?

Run Me Over

Have patience with me
Go easy on me
Don't run me over
Again
Be good to me
Don't shut my eyes
so I can't see
You ran me over
You ran me over

I have no one
I have nothing
but then I'm used to walking
blinded by the light
I am no one, really
Disembodied from myself
Still just maybe I could heal myself
if I could steal the time

I'm bleeding, slowly
Losing breath so slowly
And as my heart dies in my chest
I know it's for the best

Have patience with me
Go easy on me
Don't run me over
Again
Be good to me
Don't shut my eyes
so I can't see
You ran me over
You ran me over

In the mirror
I'm a shadow
Contours and echoes of a thing
I'm sure I used to be
We don't matter, do we?
Disembodied from ourselves
Still just maybe we'd defend ourselves
if we got help to fight

I'm bleeding, slowly
Losing breath so slowly
And as my heart dies in my chest
I know it's for the best

Have patience with me
Go easy on me
Don't run me over
Again
Be good to me
Don't shut my eyes
so I can't see
You ran me over
You ran me over

But it's not over

Encouragement Erased

Hey fellas.
Tried to post some of the pics we took at Saturday's 20th birthday party. The site freaked out and gave me ten minutes of blank screen before telling me it had "encountered a problem" and needed to be shut down. So I'm giving that up for now. Anyone at Facebook can check the pics out there.
I'm exhausted. And sick of Mum. Seems nothing I ever do is ever good enough for her. I wasn't exactly expecting her to jump up and down out of sheer joy when spotting my tattoo, but then again, I didn't expect her to say "Don't bother, I've already seen that ugly blotch you got on your back" either, which was what she did. Dad merely said "Oh, right." I don't really know how to make her happy. I think I'm doing all I can do for her. Maybe I could work some more, I dunno. What she and a hell lot of other people constantly seem to fail to realize is that school takes hell of a lot of energy and time. Got exams next week and a report to hand in on Wednesday. Meanwhile I gotta pack all the stuff lying about the place so that we can move all my stuff this weekend. Geez.
Well, like last weekend, when we were celebrating my birthday at Mum and Dad's with all my relatives and folks, and Mum didn't even seem to be happy to see me. It makes me a bit sad. I know maybe I shouldn't complain. It's just that I long for the old times, when she was interested in what I did and encouraged me and everything.
Like my writing. Dunno anyone who's been more supportive about my writing in the past than Mum. But now that I tell her I would like to study writing for a while, maybe work with it in the future, instead of becoming a teacher and all that, it's like that support has just flown away, she just looks at me and goes, "well, that's not very practical, is it?" or "how do you suppose you're ever going to make a living out of that?". Sucky. Seems it was only okay to encourage your daughter when she was writing as a hobby, when it didn't do anyone any harm, not when she actually wants to make something out of it.
I'm gonna crash on the couch for a while now in front of the TV before I go to bed. You people hold your thumbs that everything works out with moving and all.
And everything else.
G'night.

Triggered

Arm yourself!
Aim at me!
Point this way,
don't be afraid of me!
What's wrong with your hate?
I thought it felt safe?
Isn't looking down the barrel of a gun
any fun?
Isn't this what you wanted,
what you wanted to become?
Aren't you gonna fight me?
You've practically won!
I'm down on my knees,
so that everyone sees,
but you don't have the guts
to finish me.
Stop being such a pacifist,
pondering if this is wrong
There's no guilt in making a corpse of me,
in my heart I'm already gone.

Stranger In My Shell

Do I know you?

Or how can you tell?

I never say anything

that matters

of myself

Sorry?

Have I met you?

You couldn't know that

cause it matters

and I wouldn't tell

So stick to the small talk,

you stranger

in my shell

Naivete's Flare

If you got some faith,

would you lend me a share?

Waste maybe a second on a secular prayer?

Or am I too sinful and blind from despair

to earn just a mouthful

of naivete's flare?

You be the judge of what you can spare

You might not wanna trust it

in an atheist's care

And if faith could be traded

I guess it wouldn't be fair

Still, since I'm asking,

it might be worth to bear,

and a bit of faith if anything

could wake me up from this nightmare.

Manically Grinning Exclamation Marks

Wow... it's over. I've done it. I crossed the line to 50K and I even did it on time. I can't believe it's over and done with, nor could I ever really believe I was going to make it...
Not on me first try, me first year.
But I did.
Can't help but to say... YEAY! WOHOO! And all other types of thingies that could be labelled as 'short expressions followed by exclamation marks, usually emphasized in a manically grinning manner using not only the vocal cords but also the major parts of happy facial expressions and enthusiastic body language'.
Yeah I know, at least this mad word race has taught me something; to say what you really intend to say in one word in like, one word times twenty. Word-pooing, they say at the university whenever we get like, a home exam on some vague question to which there isn't really any good answer, but that we're required to do some sort of fixed amount of words if we wanna pass.
They got a point there.
I've been talking about Nanowrimo ever since I enrolled, one or two days before November began, and all you fellas might be starting to get bored of it. I could make this blog post about something else. Something more enticing, that would catch your interest in an instant and keep it there, something really useful that didn't involve me doing promotion for something or pulling some lame anecdote about my writer's struggles.
But naah.
I'm not gonna.
Maybe cause this place is all about a writer's struggles, that's the whole point why I rigged it up in the first place, almost a year ago (can you believe it's gone by already? I hardly can). Maybe cause my writing is my life, and this insane, month-long experience is one of the hardest thing in writing I've ever come to do.
Maybe it's most of all cause the day November ended, and there wasn't any obvious goal anymore, and no deadline constantly hovering above my head, I realized it felt empty.
I felt empty.
My writing's been all revived thanks to this project. My story may have reached 50,000, but it's far from over yet. I'm going to tell it. I'm going to finish it. I'm gonna do what I always used to do in the past, which is put my goddamn writing first, before everything else.
I have something to strive for now. And I know, for anyone not a writer, it sounds crazy. But I'm starting to find some bits and pieces of myself again, starting to gather that puzzle together and make some sort of sense of my life.
And that's why this post's about Nanowrimo. Without it, I'd still be fumbling in darkness, not caring about anything, not knowing about anything. You get a sense of achievement along with doing it. A sense of discipline. A sense of amazement before what is possible to do if you just put your mind to it and work damn hard to get there.
So I'm proud of myself. And I'm glad that I'm able to feel proud of myself, too. These 50K are the beginning, now I'm ready to get the whole world.
I'm gonna stay off the Nano forums for a while, until my work with my novel's starting to look like something actually finished; but I'll come back here, so watch out...
This isn't the last you've heard of me, haha...