I've been running round
Chasing dreams
Ever since my heart
Burst its seams
Because my heart
Is sewn together
With fragile stitches
That won't hold forever
We went where words didn't reach
But found our hearts couldn't breach
So we strangled on our emotions
Tied down to our own devotions
Alone at last we had no clue
Neither knew what we should do
Finally we found our voices
Talking till dawn about our choices
In the end what we did was nothing
But I feel that it was surely something
I see the world in falsity
Everything should be blurry
But I'm looking through the glass
At clarity I can't surpass
I have no clue
How things should be
Just a faint idea
From what I see
Oftentimes I wonder
"Am I seeing reality?"
Two seconds ago
When we were two people
Who didn't know
How the world could be
Everything was sad
And existence was lonely
But we came together
And yes it's a euphemism
But nothing fits better
So I think this is love
But I have no clue
With nothing to
Compare it to
Now it's time I stop
No more thinking
While I'm on top
I had a dream
Today was yesterday
And I didn't have a scar
On the side of my heart
Where you were attached
And we were torn apart
You and I still made we
Instead of just a broken me
Once happiness did abound
Now sadness nails
Me to the ground
I'm stuck here waiting
Till I heal
For now the future
Seems unreal
In the furthest corner of the house is a child's room meant to keep a little boy hidden away from the world. It looks so sadistically sexual on the surface, with walls painted to look like well worn red leather and floor length black curtains over the windows and closet to keep out as much light as possible. The black ceiling doesn't make it any brighter either. As his father once said, "It looks like some New Orleans whore house in here."
The color made the boy feel at home though. That's why he painted it like that. If you look closely you can tell it was done by someone with no experience. Crisscrossed lines from the roller and odd gaps i
Seconds, minutes, hours and days
Insomnia is a torturous haze
All the world blends and smears
Bringing to life all your fears
I end up wasting so much time
Invisibly trapped like a mime
No escape from a mental prison
The world takes on symbolism
Every shadow representing fear
And each is slowly creeping near
Till the darkness finally steals
All the things that one feels
We sold our souls
For guns and ammo
Painted our faces
A sullen camo
When all the time
Peace was there
We just refused
To pay the fare
Because bombs are cheaper
And more fun to watch
Just like the stripper
Who's working your crotch
So give up on peace
It's not meant to be
The leaders of the world
Will not hear your plea
I've been running round
Chasing dreams
Ever since my heart
Burst its seams
Because my heart
Is sewn together
With fragile stitches
That won't hold forever
We went where words didn't reach
But found our hearts couldn't breach
So we strangled on our emotions
Tied down to our own devotions
Alone at last we had no clue
Neither knew what we should do
Finally we found our voices
Talking till dawn about our choices
In the end what we did was nothing
But I feel that it was surely something
I see the world in falsity
Everything should be blurry
But I'm looking through the glass
At clarity I can't surpass
I have no clue
How things should be
Just a faint idea
From what I see
Oftentimes I wonder
"Am I seeing reality?"
Two seconds ago
When we were two people
Who didn't know
How the world could be
Everything was sad
And existence was lonely
But we came together
And yes it's a euphemism
But nothing fits better
So I think this is love
But I have no clue
With nothing to
Compare it to
Now it's time I stop
No more thinking
While I'm on top
I had a dream
Today was yesterday
And I didn't have a scar
On the side of my heart
Where you were attached
And we were torn apart
You and I still made we
Instead of just a broken me
Once happiness did abound
Now sadness nails
Me to the ground
I'm stuck here waiting
Till I heal
For now the future
Seems unreal
In the furthest corner of the house is a child's room meant to keep a little boy hidden away from the world. It looks so sadistically sexual on the surface, with walls painted to look like well worn red leather and floor length black curtains over the windows and closet to keep out as much light as possible. The black ceiling doesn't make it any brighter either. As his father once said, "It looks like some New Orleans whore house in here."
The color made the boy feel at home though. That's why he painted it like that. If you look closely you can tell it was done by someone with no experience. Crisscrossed lines from the roller and odd gaps i
Seconds, minutes, hours and days
Insomnia is a torturous haze
All the world blends and smears
Bringing to life all your fears
I end up wasting so much time
Invisibly trapped like a mime
No escape from a mental prison
The world takes on symbolism
Every shadow representing fear
And each is slowly creeping near
Till the darkness finally steals
All the things that one feels
We sold our souls
For guns and ammo
Painted our faces
A sullen camo
When all the time
Peace was there
We just refused
To pay the fare
Because bombs are cheaper
And more fun to watch
Just like the stripper
Who's working your crotch
So give up on peace
It's not meant to be
The leaders of the world
Will not hear your plea
Being Bi
My mind has split
My heart is ripped
Torn apart, at the seams
Torn between, life and dreams
I am in need, of a friend
Someone to help, my heart to mend
All I want, is to be loved
More often though, I am shoved
I end up face down in the dirt
Put there by those who want me hurt
They hate me, for who I am
They see through, my simple sham
My life is a lie, I tell to myself
To hide the thoughts, on my minds shelf
In the end, I cant win
So Ill be myself, once again
From now on, I shall be true
I like boys and girls, now what to do
My name's Wesley and I'm soon to be a college student. I'll be going for a degree in chemistry planning to go on to med school. I love to write, especially poetry, but I do write the occasional short story. Other than that I don't do much, I guess I'm just boring that way.
Current Residence: Somewhere too plain to describe deviantWEAR sizing preference: I would prefer small but that's unlikely Favourite genre of music: Metal, Alternative, classic rock pretty much anything not country or hip hop Favourite style of art: Any kind that is true Wallpaper of choice: Anything with a Biohazard symbol. Favourite cartoon character: Freakazoid Personal Quote: Wherever I go I find stupidity, and it makes me wonder if this disease is stalking me.
Favourite Movies
Donnie Darko
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Led Zeppelin because they are god
Favourite Writers
Ray Bradbury, George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Edgar Allen Poe
Favourite Games
Kingdom Hearts
Tools of the Trade
Pen and Paper
Other Interests
Reading, Writing, Drawing, and generally hating life
So summer is here, and I can't wait for school to start back.
I just kind of hate summer because I have nothing to do. My main friends that I hang out with are all spread too far for me see regularly, and the closest person I have has left for Pennsylvania. It doesn't help that I live in a city where there isn't much to do. It also doesn't help that I cut ties with or pissed off most of the people who are around.
I also didn't get a summer job set up ahead of time so now I'm having to look for one. Luckily my parents aren't gonna force me to get a job in fast food or anything like that if I can't get a decent one.
On the writing front I ha
So it's time for a new journal.
It's spring time and all the annoying couples are coming into the sunshine annoying those of us unaffected by the seasons. And all the girls in short shorts throwing sex into the air aren't helping to improve that mood.
Another thing I've noticed is that all the little groups of friends I have are closing ranks and me being on the outskirts of a couple groups I'm being pushed out of them and it's just weird to see it happening.
Drama pisses me off. I'm just gonna throw that out there.
As a side note my kidneys are acting up making me want to just curl into a ball and do nothing but with classes and scholars
Life is generally fucked up. Most commonly by people fucking. Quite literally everyone around me seems to be fucking. Comedians with gingers, foxes with tools, spastic nerd with indy music snobs, puerto ricans with pretty much everyone, and midgets get the prettiest of girls. Yet I sit alone staring on and wondering just why cant I be fucked up enough to be fucked.
On a happy note, I made a pretty little design in my skin and I think it might last me forever, but who knows with scars. Sometimes they heal so well they become invisible and othertimes they last for years without even fading.
by the way, you're totally less boring than i am. i pretty much just write poetry. every once in a while, i'll write an essay or an article if someone asks, but i generally don't just feel the need to write an essay out of nowhere.
that's cool. shit happens. what i do when that happens to me is write endlessly haha. check out 750words.com. it helped me out, and it may be good for you as well.