love is all there is... | |
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11:03 a.m || 2002-12-23 | Rumpled skirt, tiny toes... Mirrored monster pictured in my mind. I wonder if I will have the time to live, or if living is just a way for me to die... faster that is. Occasionally I see the sun; the pure beams shine upon my face, but it burns. There is no pleasure there, in the light, where you are. (Picture me in heaven, snort, yeah right, can you see me with the angels there? Dancing, eating, laughing? But never mind, I was speaking of a madhouse.) When the wind blows, when the clouds fall, I hide behind them. I await you there, behind a shield of murk and trepidation, weaving a prison about myself. Here I live, here I die, here I simply exist. So where is the fun? Let�s play catch-me-if-you-can. The prize, or punishment perhaps, is the laughter you promised me would cleanse and heal. I forced a smile, the other day, and it cracked my revolting countenance. Who will heal that, my friend? Anyway, harm makes one hardy and resilient, so they say, and feeble never was for me. Wicked circumstances judge today, and the mirrored monster beckons me, while I sit here in my wrinkled skirts and paint my feet with acid. The sun is shining, somewhere out there. The venomous beams play tag, in here with me, washed out by a filthy drizzle. The doors to the madhouse slam shut; I lift my skirts and twirl away, an insane artiste, an unexpected play
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