I hear you singing, from a distance,
not really singing to me.
But always telling me the right.
What you see.
I hear your songs, hear them vaguely,
none of them really meant for me.
But always pointing me right.
I'm free.
Cause I killed the sweet choir, singing your tunes.
I'd rather be blank and never believe,
then to have you take it away from me.
I hear your advice, from afar,
not really comforting me.
But always telling me the easy.
You don't see.
How can I train myself not to feel?
When feeling is all I define myself by?
You have no way of seeing inside of me,
yet you imagine you know, that you've got all there is.
So I killed the sweet choir, singing your tunes.
I'd rather be blank and never believe,
then to have you take it away from me.
Stay this way.
You, stay away.
Tuesday, September 30
Sunday, September 28
Not Being Held
I don't understand why I'm not enough.
I don't understand why I don't last.
I don't understand why none of you will touch me,
if it's true how you say that all of you love me...
Why is it so much easier for you to glance over at her? To look at her? Because it would hurt you to hold me wouldn't it? It would be so inconvenient. But her you know for what she shows. She makes herself a target and so it makes it easy for you to aim.
You don't have romance anymore. You don't know what it means. You see all your solutions in shallow meetings that don't mean anything. I'm right here. I'm under your eyes. I have things to say and feelings to feel that are deep. I care for what matters. I care for what is touching. I don't close my eyes to everything that is inconvenient or painful and spend my time trying to forget what it was that I was trying to repress...
But I'm invisible.
And the only hugs I ever get are fleeting ones. Friendly. Most barely so. Some only figments of friendly, trying to deny that there are even friendly feelings, even as much so. You make yourself a distance to me, somehow afraid of ... yeah... I don't know what you're afraid of.
But I'm scared.
And I long to be held. Even for a moment.
I want the cocoon without having to be inside it on my own.
*snaps hairband*
Says your
POET in the marmalade JAR
I don't understand why I don't last.
I don't understand why none of you will touch me,
if it's true how you say that all of you love me...
Why is it so much easier for you to glance over at her? To look at her? Because it would hurt you to hold me wouldn't it? It would be so inconvenient. But her you know for what she shows. She makes herself a target and so it makes it easy for you to aim.
You don't have romance anymore. You don't know what it means. You see all your solutions in shallow meetings that don't mean anything. I'm right here. I'm under your eyes. I have things to say and feelings to feel that are deep. I care for what matters. I care for what is touching. I don't close my eyes to everything that is inconvenient or painful and spend my time trying to forget what it was that I was trying to repress...
But I'm invisible.
And the only hugs I ever get are fleeting ones. Friendly. Most barely so. Some only figments of friendly, trying to deny that there are even friendly feelings, even as much so. You make yourself a distance to me, somehow afraid of ... yeah... I don't know what you're afraid of.
But I'm scared.
And I long to be held. Even for a moment.
I want the cocoon without having to be inside it on my own.
*snaps hairband*
Says your
POET in the marmalade JAR
Wednesday, September 24
No Relaxing
Caught up a little with the word count during the night. Was 2,000 words behind before, round about now I've made that number go down to 1,000. My biggest horror is to not hit the 25,000 word deadline on the 30th when I've made such an effort to do that...! So, no relaxing, quite yet... Though dead tired!
I wanna sleep!
Nighty,
says P.it.J
I wanna sleep!
Nighty,
says P.it.J
Monday, September 22
A Little Less Alone
Press my back towards the wall
and I'm a little less lonely.
A little less alone.
Voices through a cord
my last waking minutes
and I'm a little less alone.
I can venture and go to a million places
but with you always was home.
So I picture you the way we were,
and I'm a little less alone.
and I'm a little less lonely.
A little less alone.
Voices through a cord
my last waking minutes
and I'm a little less alone.
I can venture and go to a million places
but with you always was home.
So I picture you the way we were,
and I'm a little less alone.
Sunday, September 21
However It Is
They tell me you play tricks on me.
Twirl me around your finger.
That I'm not alone about not letting go.
However it is they could possibly know.
They tell me it's been four months and a half.
And still I'm stubborn enough to linger.
They say that it's time now, time to let go.
However it is they could possibly know.
They tell me not to repeat their mistakes,
that I'm treading old dangerous grounds.
That I'm doing it because I enjoy to do so.
However it is they could possibly know.
I told them it's not because of you that I cry.
That you're just the one I can show my tears to.
They'll never believe me, I know, I have tried.
Even though this is what it comes down to.
They tell me you have aces, up your sleeves.
Aces that will have no gain for me.
I'll see for myself as I've entered the game.
I'll make your mistakes,
but they won't be the same.
Twirl me around your finger.
That I'm not alone about not letting go.
However it is they could possibly know.
They tell me it's been four months and a half.
And still I'm stubborn enough to linger.
They say that it's time now, time to let go.
However it is they could possibly know.
They tell me not to repeat their mistakes,
that I'm treading old dangerous grounds.
That I'm doing it because I enjoy to do so.
However it is they could possibly know.
I told them it's not because of you that I cry.
That you're just the one I can show my tears to.
They'll never believe me, I know, I have tried.
Even though this is what it comes down to.
They tell me you have aces, up your sleeves.
Aces that will have no gain for me.
I'll see for myself as I've entered the game.
I'll make your mistakes,
but they won't be the same.
Rich Of Colors
Someone told me to look for colors.
Chase after the few small things still precious, in a black and white, cold and hostile world, a place where we are what we see, and feel what we define ourselves by... to treasure rare moments of the present rather than to cloak myself in the darkness of the past, somehow, in order to build myself a brighter future.
Someone told me to look for jewels.
Hidden gems.
What is still of value in a world where value is overrated... and misinterpreted.
My father always tell me that you can be rich of other things than money. And I know what he means by it. I think it was the best lesson he could ever teach me, making me learn how to live in the moment, live by the day, treasuring the few beautiful things, the few colors on a grey palette.
And then there was the someone talking about the colors.
About the good.
That I saw only the black of the world, and to get out of it I had to start out small, had to look closely for more colors. For what was not apparent for the eye. That some things that make life easier are harder to find, but repays you twice as much as what makes life harder and is easy to find...
I'm taking your advice. Staying inside. Looking outside. Through the glass I can see some colors. Slowly, to my eyes, they come alive. I let them be part of the moments that build my life. I let them be seconds of the hours that make my time. I will travel through darkness for all that I know, but among it there will be patches of light.
There'll be patches of color.
And it will help me endure.
Help me take those baby steps.
Some advice sticks with you.
THANK YOU.
Chase after the few small things still precious, in a black and white, cold and hostile world, a place where we are what we see, and feel what we define ourselves by... to treasure rare moments of the present rather than to cloak myself in the darkness of the past, somehow, in order to build myself a brighter future.
Someone told me to look for jewels.
Hidden gems.
What is still of value in a world where value is overrated... and misinterpreted.
My father always tell me that you can be rich of other things than money. And I know what he means by it. I think it was the best lesson he could ever teach me, making me learn how to live in the moment, live by the day, treasuring the few beautiful things, the few colors on a grey palette.
And then there was the someone talking about the colors.
About the good.
That I saw only the black of the world, and to get out of it I had to start out small, had to look closely for more colors. For what was not apparent for the eye. That some things that make life easier are harder to find, but repays you twice as much as what makes life harder and is easy to find...
I'm taking your advice. Staying inside. Looking outside. Through the glass I can see some colors. Slowly, to my eyes, they come alive. I let them be part of the moments that build my life. I let them be seconds of the hours that make my time. I will travel through darkness for all that I know, but among it there will be patches of light.
There'll be patches of color.
And it will help me endure.
Help me take those baby steps.
Some advice sticks with you.
THANK YOU.
Wednesday, September 17
Cry, Despair, Anxious And Lonely
While desperately trying to avoid paying attention to life's fucked up matters, you know, the stuff that would usually call for you, making you scream, sweat, cry, despair, feel anxious and lonely etcetera, I just exceeded the (somewhat) magical 15,000 word line. It's a good sign since the goal for September last is 25,000 and thus this means I haven't just overcome more than half of it, meaning (!) a whole quarter of the finished draft... but also that I have only 10,000 words left to breach that limit, and I feel like I could go there in five seconds. My only regret is my lack of time. Work takes so much energy from me and when I come home I can't bare the idea of placing myself in front of the screen. So... instead, I place myself right here, when time is almost just half an hour to midnight, and type away, until my fingers are sore and my imagination almost bursting, unable to get it out right, to get it on paper. Right as for now, I'm up way too late and thus can't focus when I need to, once I get to work, which I loathe for now, but don't ask, I'll tell later, I'm sick of talking about it.
I'm so scared I'm losing me. Losing parts of me. Being robbed of what used to be little bex, little me, being robbed of what makes me my own person. I'm so engulfed right now in the lives that I have at hand, the kids that are in my care, that there's barely any room over for me.
But there might be some left for Lee...
I'm so scared I'm losing me. Losing parts of me. Being robbed of what used to be little bex, little me, being robbed of what makes me my own person. I'm so engulfed right now in the lives that I have at hand, the kids that are in my care, that there's barely any room over for me.
But there might be some left for Lee...
Tuesday, September 16
Salvation In A Grain
You were poison and fire
Dangerous ivy
Dangerous blend
but there was chemistry
I poured you out, liar
Dangerous waters
Unperfect end
You were still too close
Throwing spells on me
Together we owned a little of life
Together we made a bubble to sleep
Opened our hearts in unwhite lies
One last time to own some of life
You tore me again, fire
Dangerous flames
Unclosure, pretend
You are still too close
I was drugs and dark roses
Venomous thorns
Venom in your veins
but a piece of salvation,
in the sand, in a grain
Together we owned a little of life
Together we made a bubble to sleep
Opened our hearts in unwhite lies
One last time to own some of life
Together we owned a little of sky
Together we curled up inside to sleep
Opened our arms greeting the lie
I'm trying to be strong, one last line
Together we owned a little of life
Together we made a bubble to sleep
Opened our hearts in unwhite lies
One last time, to own some of life
If nothing else I own your lies
Dangerous ivy
Dangerous blend
but there was chemistry
I poured you out, liar
Dangerous waters
Unperfect end
You were still too close
Throwing spells on me
Together we owned a little of life
Together we made a bubble to sleep
Opened our hearts in unwhite lies
One last time to own some of life
You tore me again, fire
Dangerous flames
Unclosure, pretend
You are still too close
I was drugs and dark roses
Venomous thorns
Venom in your veins
but a piece of salvation,
in the sand, in a grain
Together we owned a little of life
Together we made a bubble to sleep
Opened our hearts in unwhite lies
One last time to own some of life
Together we owned a little of sky
Together we curled up inside to sleep
Opened our arms greeting the lie
I'm trying to be strong, one last line
Together we owned a little of life
Together we made a bubble to sleep
Opened our hearts in unwhite lies
One last time, to own some of life
If nothing else I own your lies
Monday, September 15
Working Wonders
I feel so grown up. So... important. Not only is it the fact that I now have a proper, decent, full time job (which I never had before!), and my own desk with my own books, and my own classroom with my own classes. Not only is it that we have our own little teacher's room, three people sharing. Not only is it that I now have an 8-5 job, getting up in the morning, doing something useful, coming home again, make dinner, do what I want. Prepare some more for tomorrow's class.
It's that I feel I can get under the skin of these kids.
It's that I know I'll be able to work wonders for them.
Like this teacher they've been having. Totally careless what he's saying, blurting out stuff like, "well here's a student that didn't write anything all class", or to me in between classes with the classroom door wide open, "the fat girl in front row don't know anything, not a thing". It's beyond clear he has not been through even something as elementary as teacher's ethics.
NEVER talk about students so that they can hear you and NEVER patronize them.
It's as though he considers them a bunch of troublesome kids, not seeing them for the people that they actually are... as though they were invisible. Except for the good kids of course, the talented ones. Because they are naturally, gods per se.
The most classic mistake one can make as a teacher and to be frank, I'm glad that I'm aware of it enough as to not fall into that trap myself. I'm sure I'll make a hundred mistakes with them as it is, but at least I got the elementary.
At least I got the basics.
Wow, can't stop thinking about work and what I'm gonna do with these fellas, haha.
There was especially this one kid who stood out to me. Trying to appear mysterious. The teacher they've had up til now has barely ever had time for him, thinking he's "unmotivated" even if good, and so on. But by asking him stuff about his music I got him to write the most interesting little piece.
I can do wonders with these kiddos.
I don't care if my first week will be a mess!
Happy she survived, and did so with grace
THE POET in THE JAR
It's that I feel I can get under the skin of these kids.
It's that I know I'll be able to work wonders for them.
Like this teacher they've been having. Totally careless what he's saying, blurting out stuff like, "well here's a student that didn't write anything all class", or to me in between classes with the classroom door wide open, "the fat girl in front row don't know anything, not a thing". It's beyond clear he has not been through even something as elementary as teacher's ethics.
NEVER talk about students so that they can hear you and NEVER patronize them.
It's as though he considers them a bunch of troublesome kids, not seeing them for the people that they actually are... as though they were invisible. Except for the good kids of course, the talented ones. Because they are naturally, gods per se.
The most classic mistake one can make as a teacher and to be frank, I'm glad that I'm aware of it enough as to not fall into that trap myself. I'm sure I'll make a hundred mistakes with them as it is, but at least I got the elementary.
At least I got the basics.
Wow, can't stop thinking about work and what I'm gonna do with these fellas, haha.
There was especially this one kid who stood out to me. Trying to appear mysterious. The teacher they've had up til now has barely ever had time for him, thinking he's "unmotivated" even if good, and so on. But by asking him stuff about his music I got him to write the most interesting little piece.
I can do wonders with these kiddos.
I don't care if my first week will be a mess!
Happy she survived, and did so with grace
THE POET in THE JAR
Interrupted By Life
Life, who do you think you are?
What the fuck are you doing at my door?
Get on with it, get the hell out of here,
I don't know what the fuck you're for.
I don't ever wanna leave my house,
I'll spend forever staring into the walls.
It's not your right to interrupt,
not a decision for you to call.
I decided long ago I'd exist without you,
so life, get the fuck out!
What the fuck are you doing at my door?
Get on with it, get the hell out of here,
I don't know what the fuck you're for.
I don't ever wanna leave my house,
I'll spend forever staring into the walls.
It's not your right to interrupt,
not a decision for you to call.
I decided long ago I'd exist without you,
so life, get the fuck out!
Sunday, September 14
Maybe If
Maybe if you closed your heart
you'd be safer.
Maybe if you didn't vent.
Maybe if you stuck with me,
your unchosen blood.
Maybe if you weren't so careless.
Maybe if you didn't feel.
No one close enough to scar you.
No one to tear you in pieces.
Maybe you could close your soul
and be safer.
I know I don't have much to offer.
I know I'm not what you want.
But I never falter.
I'm always here.
Maybe if we closed our hearts.
Maybe if we didn't choose new blood.
It'd be safer.
You wouldn't fall.
But sister,
you wouldn't fly either.
____________________________
I wrote this one for my sis in her time of need. Universe is free to fuck with me and I'm getting used to the idea, but leave my sis alone. She's none of yours to claim.
THE POET IN THE JAR
you'd be safer.
Maybe if you didn't vent.
Maybe if you stuck with me,
your unchosen blood.
Maybe if you weren't so careless.
Maybe if you didn't feel.
No one close enough to scar you.
No one to tear you in pieces.
Maybe you could close your soul
and be safer.
I know I don't have much to offer.
I know I'm not what you want.
But I never falter.
I'm always here.
Maybe if we closed our hearts.
Maybe if we didn't choose new blood.
It'd be safer.
You wouldn't fall.
But sister,
you wouldn't fly either.
____________________________
I wrote this one for my sis in her time of need. Universe is free to fuck with me and I'm getting used to the idea, but leave my sis alone. She's none of yours to claim.
THE POET IN THE JAR
Don't Kill The Cocoon
Please, just for a second,
let me in to your cocoon
The world outside is killing me,
and I want to die,
but not this soon
Please, for a moment,
open your tent for me
Let me believe I can stay
Let me believe you're true
Another fairytale and makebelieve
but for one second,
let's pretend
The world outside is killing me,
and I want out
I want it to end
let me in to your cocoon
The world outside is killing me,
and I want to die,
but not this soon
Please, for a moment,
open your tent for me
Let me believe I can stay
Let me believe you're true
Another fairytale and makebelieve
but for one second,
let's pretend
The world outside is killing me,
and I want out
I want it to end
Smallest In The World
Take me out.
I don't want this.
I wish I wasn't grown up, didn't have to do the grown up stuff, another job to go to, another task to sign and file. I don't wanna go somewhere, do some things, to get some money so that I can pay some bills... I want to do bigger things, I want to do greater things, I want to matter.
I want to be remembered, for something I did, something extraordinary. Something special, something totally completely Lee.
I want it to be such a way so that when I go, I'll be left alone with all I knew of life and let it be all. Let it be all I need to go in peace.
I'm afraid of it. I'm terrified. I'm thinking about it more every day that passes. How can something so scary sometimes seem so inviting? So tempting?
I don't wanna do this. I want out!
I feel like I'm the smallest in the world and I'm so scared,
tells the Poet in the Jar
I don't want this.
I wish I wasn't grown up, didn't have to do the grown up stuff, another job to go to, another task to sign and file. I don't wanna go somewhere, do some things, to get some money so that I can pay some bills... I want to do bigger things, I want to do greater things, I want to matter.
I want to be remembered, for something I did, something extraordinary. Something special, something totally completely Lee.
I want it to be such a way so that when I go, I'll be left alone with all I knew of life and let it be all. Let it be all I need to go in peace.
I'm afraid of it. I'm terrified. I'm thinking about it more every day that passes. How can something so scary sometimes seem so inviting? So tempting?
I don't wanna do this. I want out!
I feel like I'm the smallest in the world and I'm so scared,
tells the Poet in the Jar
Friday, September 12
Follow The Jar!
News for you peeps who drop by regularly and have a blogger account, it's now possible to follow the Poet in the Jar Diaries by clicking the link in the upper right. This way you will be notified on your dashboard when there are new posts to read and don't have to drop by "unnecessarily". Also why not embrace the idea yourself to see who follows yours?
Meanwhile, what new? Not a lot to entertain you with. Too bored to sleep, too tired to do anything useful, haha. I'll drop by again tomorrow!
Love you guys,
says the POET in the JAR, as of always.
Meanwhile, what new? Not a lot to entertain you with. Too bored to sleep, too tired to do anything useful, haha. I'll drop by again tomorrow!
Love you guys,
says the POET in the JAR, as of always.
Thursday, September 11
Word Count, New Person
Got a new project up and working along with Bad Seed 88. Visit the body art gallery at http://www.handsomehands.blogspot.com and check it out for yourselves! It's still having a little bit of a fresh start, but we've got a few goodies up and going already as it is.
Got a response from the agent today, after sending in the hotsheet a few days back. I almost get startled every time they email me, it's still so surreal. Especially since all the fuzz is about the first novel and I'm currently very much preoccupied with the sequel, hitting 12,000 words yesterday (applause!). I've been warned that the process from now on will take some time, but as she wrote me, if nothing happens during the first 30 days as they use the database searches, they will turn to more "aggressive" sales methods (yes, I also imagined this with twenty agents running around knocking doors with giant clubs in their hands threatening about the apocalypse, but these were the words she chose). Now only remains the hardest part: waiting... patience, Lee, patience!
I also have this weird idea that I will try and change myself. Hence the new layout, my new nick at facebook, my renewed passion for art etcetera. I want to push every thought of the past away and just make a new person. Lee is standing before you, behold. She's got the best bits and pieces of the old bex, she just doesn't give a damn about the parts rusting and starting to mould.
Oh, and she writes the hell out of life also.
Except for those news... I got the teacher's job. I'm quite happy about it but also nervous, beyond compare. I don't know how to teach Swedish or make term plans or talk to parents... yikes! Haha. Well, since it's just for the term we'll see how I'll survive. It'll look pretty freaking awesome in my resumé when the time comes. First job is hardest to get! And seeming how easy it was to get this I'm almost scared how many jobs I'll be able to choose from later on... haha. My philosophy right now is don't worry until Monday... a few last days in freedom, right?
Well, Congrats!
Says the Poet in the Jar, seemingly out of nowhere
PS. This means no more weekends at the gas station. Been wanting out for ages... DS.
Got a response from the agent today, after sending in the hotsheet a few days back. I almost get startled every time they email me, it's still so surreal. Especially since all the fuzz is about the first novel and I'm currently very much preoccupied with the sequel, hitting 12,000 words yesterday (applause!). I've been warned that the process from now on will take some time, but as she wrote me, if nothing happens during the first 30 days as they use the database searches, they will turn to more "aggressive" sales methods (yes, I also imagined this with twenty agents running around knocking doors with giant clubs in their hands threatening about the apocalypse, but these were the words she chose). Now only remains the hardest part: waiting... patience, Lee, patience!
I also have this weird idea that I will try and change myself. Hence the new layout, my new nick at facebook, my renewed passion for art etcetera. I want to push every thought of the past away and just make a new person. Lee is standing before you, behold. She's got the best bits and pieces of the old bex, she just doesn't give a damn about the parts rusting and starting to mould.
Oh, and she writes the hell out of life also.
Except for those news... I got the teacher's job. I'm quite happy about it but also nervous, beyond compare. I don't know how to teach Swedish or make term plans or talk to parents... yikes! Haha. Well, since it's just for the term we'll see how I'll survive. It'll look pretty freaking awesome in my resumé when the time comes. First job is hardest to get! And seeming how easy it was to get this I'm almost scared how many jobs I'll be able to choose from later on... haha. My philosophy right now is don't worry until Monday... a few last days in freedom, right?
Well, Congrats!
Says the Poet in the Jar, seemingly out of nowhere
PS. This means no more weekends at the gas station. Been wanting out for ages... DS.
Wednesday, September 10
The Unhappy Stories
The unhappy stories. The ones hidden in the dark. Shrouded, soon, by forgetting, while ever so revived by remembrance. Always, they will outnumber the fairytales that end well, end in sunshine, end showing in the light. The ones that you joy yourself over and in delight, the ones that make you jealous, the ones that you use to shield yourself from the rest.
The unhappy stories, you always find yourself playing parts of. Playing roles in.
Wondering, if ever you will get another set of story, another set of lines, where you don't plunge into the usual traps, where you don't let yourself go only to find that you have nowhere to fall. Smiling, in the gloom, because you know that you won't...
And that it will only make you stronger.
I took my pillow last night. I took my quilt. I took my teddy bear. And moved over to the other side of the room, away from the bed, onto the sofa. Lay there. Stared out the window. Stared at the sky. Feeling less lonely on a narrow couch than in a wide bed.
And it made a difference.
The only change of scenery that feels possible for me right now.
The only other world I can make for me.
I want to cross the world and the universe, but here I am, only holding the power to cross to the other side of this room, to a place where it's a tad easier just seeing the stars.
The same stars you see.
What can I do but embrace it?
You'll find me there again tonight.
You'll find me there again tomorrow.
I'll be sleeping where ever I lay my head to rest, and that'll be my home.
I can pretend that I'm sleeping under the starry sky. I can pretend I have all you guys beside me. There, in my other world, you're closer than you'll ever be, when dreams are all the means for me.
The unhappy stories, you always find yourself playing parts of. Playing roles in.
Wondering, if ever you will get another set of story, another set of lines, where you don't plunge into the usual traps, where you don't let yourself go only to find that you have nowhere to fall. Smiling, in the gloom, because you know that you won't...
And that it will only make you stronger.
I took my pillow last night. I took my quilt. I took my teddy bear. And moved over to the other side of the room, away from the bed, onto the sofa. Lay there. Stared out the window. Stared at the sky. Feeling less lonely on a narrow couch than in a wide bed.
And it made a difference.
The only change of scenery that feels possible for me right now.
The only other world I can make for me.
I want to cross the world and the universe, but here I am, only holding the power to cross to the other side of this room, to a place where it's a tad easier just seeing the stars.
The same stars you see.
What can I do but embrace it?
You'll find me there again tonight.
You'll find me there again tomorrow.
I'll be sleeping where ever I lay my head to rest, and that'll be my home.
I can pretend that I'm sleeping under the starry sky. I can pretend I have all you guys beside me. There, in my other world, you're closer than you'll ever be, when dreams are all the means for me.
Tuesday, September 9
Silence To Rend
I'm down,
beyond where you'll find me.
I'm in need of friends,
who have their own lives to mend.
Call me selfish,
drowning in misery,
while I know you're doing
just the same as me.
You're down,
beyond where I'll find you.
You're in need of a friend,
I can be one to lend.
Meanwhile I'll be silence itself,
waiting for you to rend.
beyond where you'll find me.
I'm in need of friends,
who have their own lives to mend.
Call me selfish,
drowning in misery,
while I know you're doing
just the same as me.
You're down,
beyond where I'll find you.
You're in need of a friend,
I can be one to lend.
Meanwhile I'll be silence itself,
waiting for you to rend.
Sunday, September 7
Rescue Me
You were a flare,
you were a flame,
you were a high risk game
You added fire to my life
You gave me burns,
you gave me scars,
you made my skin peel off
to reveal another side
You should be the one to rescue me
You caught my heart on fire
You should be the one to rescue me
Put out my bright desire
You were a fling,
you were something
I should be cautious of
A danger and a hazard
You label warning
but you blinded me
You were fireworks
I was a blizzard
You should be the one to rescue me
You caught my heart on fire
You should be the one to rescue me
Put out my bright desire
Since you taught me how to burn
you'll extinguish me
I want out
I want to learn
You should be the one to rescue me
You caught my heart on fire
You should be the one to rescue me
Put out my bright desire
you were a flame,
you were a high risk game
You added fire to my life
You gave me burns,
you gave me scars,
you made my skin peel off
to reveal another side
You should be the one to rescue me
You caught my heart on fire
You should be the one to rescue me
Put out my bright desire
You were a fling,
you were something
I should be cautious of
A danger and a hazard
You label warning
but you blinded me
You were fireworks
I was a blizzard
You should be the one to rescue me
You caught my heart on fire
You should be the one to rescue me
Put out my bright desire
Since you taught me how to burn
you'll extinguish me
I want out
I want to learn
You should be the one to rescue me
You caught my heart on fire
You should be the one to rescue me
Put out my bright desire
Thursday, September 4
Match Of Melodies
Blow me a bubble, just for me.
Crawl up inside and forget about time.
Here is our safe tent, sacred and free.
Here, where our words find eachother to rhyme.
Crawl up inside and forget about time.
Here is our safe tent, sacred and free.
Here, where our words find eachother to rhyme.
Dead End Alley
Pity me all you want that I dream.
That I find my escapes in dreamscapes,
and make my world of makebelieve.
Tell me all you want it's a one way street,
I'll still have known some love for me.
In the end all that matters is what I saw,
the things I treasured and watched in awe.
Mock me all you want that I dream.
That I believe in the scenes I draw for myself.
Tell me all you want it's a dead end alley,
I'll still have known some love for me.
I know all the pains there is of living,
all the horror there is of love.
Anything is better than apathy.
Anything is better than not to be.
And in that respect you were good for me.
That I find my escapes in dreamscapes,
and make my world of makebelieve.
Tell me all you want it's a one way street,
I'll still have known some love for me.
In the end all that matters is what I saw,
the things I treasured and watched in awe.
Mock me all you want that I dream.
That I believe in the scenes I draw for myself.
Tell me all you want it's a dead end alley,
I'll still have known some love for me.
I know all the pains there is of living,
all the horror there is of love.
Anything is better than apathy.
Anything is better than not to be.
And in that respect you were good for me.
End Credits
I know I'm not entitled to grieve,
I'm not meant to be in sorrow.
Still everything you say I believe,
assuming somewhere there is still a tomorrow.
I know I should be happy for you that you live,
should be glad you don't spend your nights alone.
Somehow that makes my own loneliness worse,
knowing I'm unwillingly on my own.
I was the one to pull out and end it,
I was the one that deserves no credit,
I know all that and I know it well.
Could you leave it at this and make me survive?
Could you let me be to make my own knives?
I can kill myself on my own behalf,
if just you let me be.
It's that you still appear to care for me
that keeps me living,
at unease.
I know I'm not entitled to grieve,
but I didn't set the rules for sorrow.
So everything you say I'll believe,
assuming that somewhere there's still a tomorrow.
A future on lease,
something I only borrowed...
I'm not meant to be in sorrow.
Still everything you say I believe,
assuming somewhere there is still a tomorrow.
I know I should be happy for you that you live,
should be glad you don't spend your nights alone.
Somehow that makes my own loneliness worse,
knowing I'm unwillingly on my own.
I was the one to pull out and end it,
I was the one that deserves no credit,
I know all that and I know it well.
Could you leave it at this and make me survive?
Could you let me be to make my own knives?
I can kill myself on my own behalf,
if just you let me be.
It's that you still appear to care for me
that keeps me living,
at unease.
I know I'm not entitled to grieve,
but I didn't set the rules for sorrow.
So everything you say I'll believe,
assuming that somewhere there's still a tomorrow.
A future on lease,
something I only borrowed...
Mirror
It doesn't matter if you mirror me,
if you're the reflection that I seek.
A spark in the glass is all that I need,
I can live of the hints in your voice.
It doesn't matter if you answer to me,
if you're the reply that I'm looking for.
That at first it was simple is all that I need,
I can live with the consequences of your choice.
In the end I will still be awarded that I love,
that I chose my soul over logic and reason.
In the end all I will know is my soul,
deceiving you by treason.
It doesn't matter if you mirror me,
you will still be my reflection.
A spark in the glass is all that I need.
A glimmer to live off,
A sparkle to love.
The only shimmer I ever knew of.
if you're the reflection that I seek.
A spark in the glass is all that I need,
I can live of the hints in your voice.
It doesn't matter if you answer to me,
if you're the reply that I'm looking for.
That at first it was simple is all that I need,
I can live with the consequences of your choice.
In the end I will still be awarded that I love,
that I chose my soul over logic and reason.
In the end all I will know is my soul,
deceiving you by treason.
It doesn't matter if you mirror me,
you will still be my reflection.
A spark in the glass is all that I need.
A glimmer to live off,
A sparkle to love.
The only shimmer I ever knew of.
Monday, September 1
Monster's Well
I'm down.
Hit the bottom.
Deep down.
In my well.
Your faces staring down my walls,
throwing buckets,
throwing all.
I'm down.
It's your call.
Deep down.
In my well.
Your voices bouncing down my walls,
singing tunes,
singing all.
I'm down.
But I could climb.
Deep down.
From my well.
For you it's only a monster's hell,
stay away,
afraid to fall.
I'm down.
It's your call.
Who's the monster
after all?
Hit the bottom.
Deep down.
In my well.
Your faces staring down my walls,
throwing buckets,
throwing all.
I'm down.
It's your call.
Deep down.
In my well.
Your voices bouncing down my walls,
singing tunes,
singing all.
I'm down.
But I could climb.
Deep down.
From my well.
For you it's only a monster's hell,
stay away,
afraid to fall.
I'm down.
It's your call.
Who's the monster
after all?
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