bless the dust that hides

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By Loneliness is condescending •

Music strings and hearts Circling my slumber Tightens and strumming, weaving, beating, living Laugher gifts and songs The heartstrings of my life Losing, fading, dusty and unkempt Rough hands, taking, wanting, pulling and UN a justing To quickly Snapping, breaking, a sickening sound Empty sound a cunning fleeing sound, nothing Waiting its over now and I am lost Words nothing empty Pointless this is foolish It was all forsaken from the start but even with the blood Of our wounded souls From self inflected pleasure We counted on from the start In losing our self we trusted we were stronger Then the ones who designed the game and gave us breath

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July 26, 2006 04:05lost the lonely dead

i do remember thinking i liked this one, i love a few key phrasess like 'from self-inflicted pleasure'