just wasting away another night staring at the radiation because the glow is the only thing that keeps me warm anymore...

poetic is best as the moon rises high
and muses are about
a poets heart is clear,
when his voice is honest

they whisper to me songs of nothings
they whisper to me the screamings of deaf
they yell with no voice
as their voices grow tired and leave me uninspired
and all i want is sleep
and all i have are words
that they should come and keep
me back from sleeping worlds
and the truths of which you speak
are illusive to the eyes
and this solitude i seek
is met with the loudest cries
from inside
from what i cant conceal
what i cant hide
these feelings that i feel

those feeling are real
a resolutiond you need
to succeed in your quest
those words of pain
are words of depth
and caring of feelings yet revealed
that need to be herd by those involved

and i want them to be lies
for i do not like what i say
and the world that i see
is nothing of the way
i would like to be
this is not me
this is my imagination
this is my fascination
with self destruction
with no introduction
i let go, expect not to fall
and i pray that i do
and you'll be at the bottom of it all
for what i can see
is a shadow of me
and the words do shit to express
what is inside and under durress
if i could only feel once in time
the emotions of my heart
without sticking it into rhymes
on papers i can discard
anything and everything
scratches out my brain
it's criving me insane
and my only real pain
is the pain
for not being able to explain
all of my pain.

01/03/2003

Author's Note: originally much longer, i cut it in two. i have yet to put up the other post. this is a convo w/ dru.

Posted on 01/03/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams