Tuesday, January 4, 2011
i've gotten so good at pretending i've lost myself.
it's all an act. except i don't know when the curtain falls
life's but a stage. one i'll never get off.
lines blurring. time slurring.
when does the show end? when did it begin?
when did it start? when does it end?
the grande finale. we're working our way there.
masks. we've gotten used to them.
like the makeup we wear everyday. (or not)
it's become us. a part of.
the person i am.
secluded. a lulling, false sense of safety.
we hid, from the world.
numb. ing. novocain.
the lists, of everything we wanted to be.
dreams, painstakingly etched with our souls.
everything we've got. we tried.
i think. until the next cycle.
dazed. glazed. glassy.
empty souless eyes. windows, shinning.
maybe it's not because nobody gets us.
but that nobody can.
see past the walls. shutters. blinders. window sills.
stop whining.
a quick dose of (bruises). sharp.
i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry.
i am. i am. i really am.
i never meant it. never did.
i know you're breaking. cracking.
under the strain. the toll it's taking.
stop whining.
take another sharp stab.
forearms are good. so are elbows and shins.
as is banging your head on the wall.
dizzying, but nice.
not the knuckles though. they dislocate too easily.
and the tendons tend too tear too quick.
i'm ok.
PS: Sorry about this morning.