Poetry for the pain... Poetry for...
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
For all you out there, here’s the disclaimer: If you have virgin ears, this poem isn’t written for you.
For all: I ramble, I digress. I create, I hypothesize, and I skitophrinisize.
My eyes water, but there aren’t tears. It’s rage building;
Hold on to my hand, lest I end up killing,
The things I hold dear, the things of which I care.
Keep me from destroying them, and disappearing into thin air.
I want to end my bitching, I want to tear it all away,
But then I’d have nothing; I’d have nowhere to stay.
Cast it to hell and let it burn, I’m not afraid.
Then I can quit this damn game of charades.
Life was good and pure, but I fucked that up too,
And all I can think about is not being like you.
The things I have, the things I touch,
They wither away, they turn to dust.
And life trundles on, and I follow.
Because emotion is strange, and thought is hollow.
And all I can see is my face growing older,
My eyes getting darker, my heart getting colder,
Death grows closer, and all I can do, Is bitch;
And hope I’m not hurting you. With my words:
They fade away and nothing remains.
And life goes forward, forgetting, refining, creating something better
and greater and newer and more
disgusting, putrid, and hateful than I
can ever be.
And I see her in the distance. And I know.
Life is worth living. Life is worth
Life. It is, and I am.
Care to give me a hand, with these boxes,
these weights I’ve
carried to the desert and up mountains and molehills,
Or not.
Do I matter to you? What am I?
Whose face are you wearing? Is it mine again?
Get out of my mind, get out of my head,
bastard. Get back and leave me.
Go away.
Never. I can’t I won’t.
— Es impossible. Somos.
Watashi wa? Anata wa?
Por que? Cada dia, por que, cada dia?
Por que Dio, Por que?
My mind aches, and my thoughts hurt
to think.
Please... I reach out to you... Save me...
But no, it can never be. I’ve given too much to be given.
Help.
For all: I ramble, I digress. I create, I hypothesize, and I skitophrinisize.
My eyes water, but there aren’t tears. It’s rage building;
Hold on to my hand, lest I end up killing,
The things I hold dear, the things of which I care.
Keep me from destroying them, and disappearing into thin air.
I want to end my bitching, I want to tear it all away,
But then I’d have nothing; I’d have nowhere to stay.
Cast it to hell and let it burn, I’m not afraid.
Then I can quit this damn game of charades.
Life was good and pure, but I fucked that up too,
And all I can think about is not being like you.
The things I have, the things I touch,
They wither away, they turn to dust.
And life trundles on, and I follow.
Because emotion is strange, and thought is hollow.
And all I can see is my face growing older,
My eyes getting darker, my heart getting colder,
Death grows closer, and all I can do, Is bitch;
And hope I’m not hurting you. With my words:
They fade away and nothing remains.
And life goes forward, forgetting, refining, creating something better
and greater and newer and more
disgusting, putrid, and hateful than I
can ever be.
And I see her in the distance. And I know.
Life is worth living. Life is worth
Life. It is, and I am.
Care to give me a hand, with these boxes,
these weights I’ve
carried to the desert and up mountains and molehills,
Or not.
Do I matter to you? What am I?
Whose face are you wearing? Is it mine again?
Get out of my mind, get out of my head,
bastard. Get back and leave me.
Go away.
Never. I can’t I won’t.
— Es impossible. Somos.
Watashi wa? Anata wa?
Por que? Cada dia, por que, cada dia?
Por que Dio, Por que?
My mind aches, and my thoughts hurt
to think.
Please... I reach out to you... Save me...
But no, it can never be. I’ve given too much to be given.
Help.
