Too many words...

[kittenspeaks]

Special thanks to Annie Lennox for the words to inspire this...

So, you wanted to know how I feel. You wanted to look into my eyes...my heart...my soul and learn what I was...who I was...

I crawled to pen and paper and poured my words like blood from my soul for you. I created for you. I posessed muses. I tortured angels. I wrang the last bit of trust from myself like blood from a turnip...and you looked away.

And now...
Well, let us simply see that my vision has changed. My muse has long abandoned me. My love has left me broken and bleeding on the steps and the audience is no longer amused with my little puppet show.

"Relationships fall apart. It is what they are designed to do.
I spoke these words as truth as the last shard of glass from my rose colored glasses was wept away. I saw your eyes and I knew your thoughts. I was a nice little piece of ass wasn't I. I was a sweet glory fuck to justify your sins. I was a broken Angel to replace your imperfect gods. Too bad that didn't work out for you.

I burnt my words. I sold out my muse for the pages of a dirty magazine. I slashed my wrists and bled for you. That was what you wanted. So, I gave. You asked for salvation and I provided. You asked tobe nurtured and I provided. You asked to be loved and I provided. Then, when you had drunk your fill, you walked away.

Now I know better. I want you all to see the the legacy you pass to those who will follow. No more I love yous. No more sacrifice. No more temptation. No more compromise. No more burning myself at the stake. I will not be the martyr for your lusts. I am done selling my soul.

You hated the past for what it did to me. You hated the scars and the nighmares. You hated the fond rememberance I held for a tender touch long lost. You hated the tears shed and the barter made. How does it feel to know that you are now part of that chain? You were no better than the stranger on my back. You took my body in trade for my life.

You said you loved me.
The man with the gun never said a word.

Comments

once again..

[surrender.livejournal.com]

once again, i read your words, and it haunts me still. something in your passion that resonates within me like a flickering flame producing warmth in a cold dark night. maybe it is because the muse is something that i never really had. I wish that the muse has visited me, and calm me of my fears and tell me stories in my loneliness. but that is not meant to be.

i will be happy if the muse has abandoned me, for that implies that she has visited me at least once. dare i wonder if the pain that i will feel is better than not feeling anything at all. I will have given anything for a slice of your passion.

Passion is Hell

[kittenspeaks.livejournal.com]

I assure you...you don't want my passion. It is a passion bred of hurt, betrayal, lost hope and theft of innocence.
They say "It is better to have loved and lost." That isn't really true. You see, for each blow delt in the name of passion leaves anoter scar. Each scar makes it harder and harder to feel.

[adrienmundi]

One of the biggest mistakes I have made over and over again is to coat my wounds with a pultice of bitterness and cynicism. While it makes the hurt less initially, it has tended to keep the wounds from ever fully healing; I told myself that was normal, and learned to cherish the unnecessary pain. I don't know that this is what you're doing, but if I can serve as the signal buoy for longterm, obdurate stupidity that keeps others from making the same mistakes over and over and over, I guess my striking the same note repeatedly may not have been a total waste.