janeasher
The stem of the meaning of life. My life. It's shrunken away into the roots, mixed with the soil, completely blended in with the earth below it. I could dig and dig and never find it. I'd just be breaking the stem up more with my fingernails searching for it. I give up.
Wading through the sea, the sea of my heart. Thick murky water which makes it almost impossible to envisage the arteries and the veins underneath, pumping away, keeping me alive. Wading through this disgusting mess that only I have created. I keep going, keep venturing on, trying to look further out, into the future maybe, but I see nothing. There is no time to waste, I must keep on. I must keep wading further into my soul until I cannot return. The soul is the comfiest place on earth.
I wanted you, I had you, I kept you
Only for a short while
You wanted out, I wanted to see you as a corpse
You left me alone at the side of the sea
Didn't take me with you
I was definitely invisible in your eyes
I never knew what you saw in her, she's not me
She's better. And that's what hurts
Bringing the hammer down
You make a nice corpse after all.
I decided to grow a corn field but a tractor mowed it all down. I decided to keep chickens but a fox ate them. I decided to keep foxes but dogs hunted them. I decided to keep a dog but it ran away. I decided to cry and I laughed. I decided to die and now...
Well, nobody fails all the time. Now I'm six feet under gazing at the stars. It's a beautiful sight.
The history of the world is something so beautiful. Everybody thinks, even historians, that they know all about it. But we don't know anything. Everything could be made up, false stories and prophecies that we take too literal. We just want something to hold onto. Even our history is cloudy in our minds. We've forgotten half of our past, so who's to say we'll remember tomorrow?
writing since 2011 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
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