DemigodZera's blog: "My stuff"

What about now, when im down and out.. I look and I look be noones around. All there is , is empty as far as the eye can see. Noone near to befriend me. When everyones so far , so so far away, how can you get close and have somewhere for your head to lay? How do you get passed the past and try not to frown, what about me, what about now?

We have been off and on so long. My addiction has never weakened but sometimes it is prolonged. Though I cant keep you here with me all the time The feelings are much more intense when we find the time. I feel you rushing through my body and I let go as i feel you take control. All my worries and all my woes seem to disappear as I plunge you through the hole. You rush through my veins and nothing can stop you. You make me feel so good that no person can top you. You take me in when everyones backs are turned. I welcome you warmly and constantly yearn. They say your bad for me and will lead me to my doom. Doom cant be so bad as long as I have you. You are my new love, and you take away the pain, and everytime I cant feel you I cant think till we meet again. Oh if you were human and something I could hold.. but your just an addiction but one I dearly hold. Youve carried me through torn emotions and evil people that crossed my path.. As long as I can find you, the world can kiss my ass.

I am a wordsmith and now I am making my weapon. My mind pounds as the anvil when it sees your deception. The fine folded edges sharper than I, when all your cries of honosty are found to be lies. The blade so well polished, not tarnished like you.. you did the unspeakable and ruined me for you. Hidden in its sheath, not nearly as well as your deceipt. Handle wrapped tightly in leather, not unwound like me when I put it all together. I am a wordsmith, they pierce oh so well, I did too much to deserve this blade I have made for my own chest. I am a wordsmith and I have made this weapon to cut you from my heart. Its has to be done, before you tear it apart.

My patchwork heart, isnt at all made of fancy linens, but rather shreds and bits I found to replace the voids left by malicious spiteful sinners. I sew and I sew constantly adding to the mosaic, replacing the pieces so my heart can be whole again, just to find another tear, yet another spot to mend. I cant seem to hide it, when I wear it on my sleeve, it stands out like a bright flower in an undergrowth of leaves. Its not so hard to tear it apart as so many have clearly shown, but for everyone thats torn out a section, into it another section I have sewn. Now the different color threads I use and a few tough lengths of yarn and some leather, all the needles Ive dulled or bent trying to keep it all together, seem cover my patchwork heart and yes its quite a mess. It grows thick upon it like a scar, like the one upon my chest, the one that covers the hole where my patchwork heart used to rest.

Talking to the Mourning Star I told him everyone knows who you are Saying to me, how do you know? Because eyes are attracted to your bright warm glow All those eyes looking at me, I dont know, thats hard to believe And you have yet to tell me just who you are I am a comet, I know all the stars But you are my favorite from Earth to Mars.

The tears of my heart are caused by you. The tears of my heart are turning to glue. The tears of my heart are saying the same. The tears of my heart scream out your name. The tears of my heart will surely go dry. When it happens, my love for you is gone. And I will never see another dawn, though I long. The tears of my heart will cause me to die.. You can help me, if you would only try.

I see your eyes glistening in the dark. I touch your shimmering hair as it waves in the midnight air. I smell your perfume, the sweet fragrence starts to spread out over the sea. I taste your presence inside of me, deep in my heart. I hear your voice, and I swell up with pride because... I know you will always be by my side.

I believe in nights. I believe in days. The world is beautiful in so many ways. The oceans of blue. The lakes of green. I picture you, in every scene. I believe in flowers. I believe in watching over you in the wee morning hours. Our heads upon pillows. The high pitched sound of a small weeping swallow. All the sudden it enters the window. And sits next to you on your pink satin pillow.

It is sometimes hard to choose between. What you know and what you've seen. Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty inside is what I seek. To choose between at a loss for words. In the souls its simply absurd, Is it easier to live life clean, Or to live a lie? To choose between, I will surely try.