remember remember

close my eyes and sit in silence

like i've been doing all these years

but my mind is empty.

i was not there.

i can't remember.

i feel so detached.

i know nothing of their sacrifices

yet i've been told their words

over and over.

but they are just words

i know there is meaning behind them

somewhere

but i don't know of it.

i feel like an inconsiderate monster

a child taking life for granted

but until i fight myself

or feel the pain of loss

for this everlastng cause

i won't be able to remember anything.

Comments

mother

i don't know what it is but i cant stand you anymore. maybe because I've been with you for 6 weeks straight. then i got two weeks of freedom, glorious freedom, and it's hard to come back to living in this house, with you, with whom i now associate all the wonderful memories of arguments that you could never bare to lose, the days spent waiting at each corner for you as you lagged behind inconsiderately taking pictures. my friend told me last night, in alcohol fuelled praise, that you were real. that she had incredible respect for you. and i just couldn't agree. you're real only in the sense that you let us know exactly what is on your mind without bothering if it upsets us. but you don't take the time to listen to me, to consider my opinions, because everything anyone else thinks is completely illogical and a waste of time. you can't grasp that you're views aren't one size fits all. they don't work for everyone; especially not me. You can't...

Sweet Nothings

You know me too well. you break these daily boundaries these walls i tried not to build you pave the way for happiness in other conciousnesess. I had a dream last night. It was beautiful. And all because of you

Here's a secret for you;

I have always been fascinated with the human body, but more so the female body. I think of it as beautiful and artistic. Ever since I was young I'd been subjected to the naked female form. Swimming pool showers and older women walking nude. Being taboo, my friends would all be so scarred and afraid to look. But I'd been subjected to it at a young age, and grew accustomed. Being around women who weren't ashamed to be exposed opened my eyes, and gave me an appreciation for this work of art hung in flesh. And so I find that drawings and paitings of naked women are just so beautiful. I can't explain it more than that. There's nothing much more beautiful than a women who isn't afraid or ashamed of her body. [from rue des images ]

rude awakenings

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