In a time when the world about me seems controled and contorted by the mere dreams of a whimsicle society, i find within myself a neccesity for companionship with an individual that can understand and acknowledge all of what i say, and futhermore all that i imply in what words I should so choose to use. Therefore, as it seems the only possible solution for such a time as thus, i find it only fitting to record whatever i should so feel notable. Abandoning all others that would set a facade of understanding, i turn to the only person i find suitable and reliable for such a thing.

I've recorded some raw material here so as to access it later. Should you wish, feel free to comment. If I should feel so inclined as to reply, I may do so.



Voices

" 's Just a good friend"
'Dissapointing'

"Don't worry, speak up"
'Hypocryte'

"I understand completely"
'Ignorant'

"Don't worry, It'll be alright"
'Hardly'

"I don't care"
'Liar'

I am not my own
-harm



Jesters All

Well beyond its prime,
Outdated and lame.

Thousand thread entwine,
Every life the same.

Thank God he never
gave up on this joke.
-harm



Tormented Memoir.

I stared into the sun,
Her light was my guide.

I lived my days in comfort,
With Her to contently abide

But now I look away,
My eyes torn from the sight.

I no longer will stare,
Or gaze into Her light.

And now I notice,
That any thing I desire to view,

Her ghostly visage ‘tis there,
And Her memory provokes and renews.

Still when to that ghost,
My gaze I do turn,

I'm lost for Her presence,
Though forever I yearn.

So from now to the next time,
That I'll turn Her my gaze,

I'm left only with Her shadow,
To tempt and taunt my days.

For I long to embrace Her,
Her light to adore,

But I'm destined to forever long,
Long for my lost "Lenore"



And another one...




Helpless

Irrelevant, useless,
Of no consequence.

Mindless, Senseless,
Vain recompense.

Hell on earth,
Neither living nor dead.

void of all mirth,
No hope lies ahead.

No cause to walk,
Less pain in a fall.

The death of one stalk,
The field won't recall.

Should I ever lose you,
I’ll 've no life pursue.

-Harm



And another...




Valediction

Alone on some untainted cliff,
Exists a newly born chick.

Young, Inccocent, Unaware.

Qukckly time develops the bird,
Never again ignorant.

Questioning, Pondering, Contemplating.

Now it abandons its's Haven.
Gracefully soars o'er the cliff.

Free, Unleashed, Alive.

I, however, was not that dove.
I had no wings to save me.





Twilight Hunt

Dusk approaching,
As it dips below the horizon.

Darkness settles in,
As all forms of light' abandoned.

First a slow spiral,
Then a steep dive.

The prey persued,
Yet ever evasive.

I never retired,
My steep decline.

-Harm





Never to Be


Retired, released,
Escaped from this jail.

Returned to a life,
Where ignorance won't fail.

No longer to offer,
the dark crimson stream,

From my deep guarded soul,
In wich endless tears teem.

-Harm



Too

Too little, too late,
Too much left undone.

Too much left to fate,
Too litte was won.

Too little embraced,
Too much forsaken.

Too little was faced,
Too much is now taken.

-Harm



Farewell

A love so heavenly, so divine,
Held deep within my breast.
One that so willingly would incline,
My life to fade should it depart, for quest
Of love to come seems futile and vain
When no potential love can e’er draw near
Or ever truly this veracity refrain,
And none shall then this ache cure.
And now you take your leave of me,
That I have been well spent.
I praise the day that brought me thee,
Yet curse all that away it you sent.
You then depart, my life is now lost,
For this is, in end, true loves final cost.

-Harm

Standing Here Upon My Hands

My feet cannot withstand
The Burdens of this life.
My heart cannot unhand
The one that cuased this strife.
Forever more my soul will yearn,
To hold once more in bliss
That thing wich now I learn
Shall ne'er be 'gain, that kiss.

So from my feet I then callapse
Upon my hands to stand
Now by fate of fall, perhaps
My sorrow is now banned.
Now despite perpetual misery,
I smile with the world, and it frowns upon me.

-Harm

Mirage

Perhaps and perchance,
Possible, persay
Allowed happenstance
Chance dictates it may
Do grant that it might
Return to today
Thereby end my night
And light then to stay
Sad dissillusion
This dream sight would be
Greatest deception
With greatest a fee:
Destruction and death
Of perfect shared breath.

-Harm


In Dreams to Delight

With dusk retired to rest
Whit rest comes a life anew.
Yet who be we to profoundly atest,
That this ilfe 'tis an existance untrue?

Perhaps by chance, for my mind would say,
In night we a true life would lead
and with dawn succumb to fancies of day,
In whome is power this thought to impead?

If 'twere true, I'd live once more
Feel bliss at brush of Her hand
Should fate allow, I'd Her love implore,
No longer such pain in command.

I pray only tonight my dreams do concure,
That I'll live once again in peace whith Her.

-Harm

For You

If time and space would leave me
If the world would cease to be.
Perhaps not by chance
A true second glance,
In that case, perhaps maybe.

-Harm


Not that any are still reading, but the fallowing is meant for only one person. Of course, Rebecca, that is you. For any others who wish to read this (for whatever reasons I cannot imagine) I admit I will never know. I do not, however, wish to discuss this with any others, or be aware that any other has read this. So, if you are NOT Rebecca, no matter who else you be, I do not wish to hear from you concerning the following.







To my dearest,

Hell falls on me as a night never to be lifted. Three times now I have felt your love, or a shadow of it, in hopes that I may one day be able to love you, and have that love accepted, without hindrance. Yet, to my great dismay and torturous findings, I have found them to all be false dreams. Every attempt I make is crushed by your scornful rejection. And every time you give me some shred of hope, only to take it away in the vilest of manners. So then, I hoped it was that you could understand my hell, my torment, and what is now my life. Sadly, however, it seems to me that you have not the slightest idea what I suffer through, nor do you seem to even remotely care, else you would never have inflicted such pains upon me. For I cannot believe you to be so heartless as to knowingly allow me to suffer through such a hell. This, indeed, is the worst of it all. For, in such a thing as this, there are born so many horrid and un-imaginable injustices that one cannot begin to comprehend. You, the only love that I have, seem to despise me for my efforts. I long for nothing more than your loving embrace, yet that seems to be the thing you most despise.

I live, ever day of my life, as a monster. Men speak tales concerning beings of hideous proportions, and unrighteous acts, and call them monsters, but they do so in a most vain manner. True monsters, I can now tell you, are born of scorned love. I live with others as an infected, vile, being. I charade among them as one who belongs, making light of the world, only to despise myself for it, and everyone else I see before me. I sit, with what can only be called a grimace upon my face, masquerading and playing a fool merely to please those whom I must, so that I may only exist (which is something I have ironically come to despise). Even after this, after I pass from the hellish torments of the world of man, I am returned to a prison. Not to say that I am put into a place, but to say that I become a place. I become the body in which demons struggle. I find myself at war with the minds that would possess me. Constantly angry, constantly depressed, constantly panicked, constantly in pain, constantly fearing not another but myself, I live not simply a life of torment; I live a thousand lives in hell. I fear to tell anyone of this but you, as I have found myself bound, by all but you, to remain what the world of men describe as “Sane”. And, as a perspective concerning men, I fear I have walked the edge of sanity, and fallen for the worse. I am a monster, I am a thousand demons, I am damned to the torments of a forsaken love that shall never be lifted but by the very hand that has bestowed them upon me.

I now find myself faced with a decision. And as we both know my disposition upon the state of certainty concerning decisions, I choose the path that retains less potential harm left in it. I find two paths before me. I have lived one, or partially so, in the hopes of redemption from the anguish I have suffered at your near ironically angelic hands. This path has led me through pains unknown to man, and relieved me from them, only to be thrown back to the depths of hell again. And, even so, I would chersih the opportunity to live this life again, were I given any hope of your returning love. The other path, my path of choice it seems, is one of insanity. I choose this path as my own in hopes that I may one day find solace in it (though I hold no reason for finding such a thing, and would despise it should I find it), in that I shall know nothing in excess of the life present, and none of the life past. I hope to find in it some form of refuge from the excruciating pain of your rejected love. Though I may look to the prospect of such a release, I cannot pretend to see any indication of future joy or happiness. I henceforth look not to the acquiring of life, but the loss of it’s pains, and very likely the loss of any of it’s resemblance. I pray that I may one day be wakened by your touch, or your voice, beckoning me to join you in a life void of this horrendous pain. I do, therefore, resign myself to the insanities of this most hideous existence known as humanity, waiting and wanting only you, though I fear you will never come to release me from the prison that I am, and that I fulfill.

Kyle