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as per usual 10:42 p.m. 2005-04-28 Its the justice in your scars as you burn your life out in cigarettes and suicide. You are the ash in the distance and the sunsetting against a haze of hate and forgotten dreams we wished to remember. I am the ghost walking down your streets and wondering at my inability to see into your windows. These are the words sealed in envelopes developing dust in the absence of the courage to send you these words and hope for the best. And in remembering our acknowledgement of our flaws we realized that there is nothing to fear. You are breaking and I am broken so what's the use in this terror? This is the recurring image of you dancing on docks in a white dress and perfection lurking in every step. This is the dream of a winter's night shrouded in snow and the halo of light above your hair as you kiss me away. Those were the moments and the nostalgia is setting in to erase our ability to convey messages in words that ease our hearts. A strange chord echoing. These footsteps are a testament to selfhatred and the inability to do anything right... or is this just an impression indented in the settling snow and the fading light is stealing away our hope? Like you promised. I'm writing for a new audience and there isn't a thing to say to move you. Your fucking apathy and my pen will run. Its not as though this was meant to mean anything because I was hoping it would turn out differently back & forth |